It's Complicated
by EugenieVictoria
Summary: Knowing how to be divorced is complicated.
1. Scorned

__**Note: I had intended on waiting to post this story until I had completed "The Year After"; however, I've been really excited about this one, so I'm going to go ahead and put it out there. I've read several really awesome "present-day" GWTW fics - this is my attempt. It picks up at the "end" of the novel, and borrows certain characters from "Scarlett" as well as the core characters from the original. As always, any and all feedback is solicited. All characters are the intellectual property of Margaret Mitchell.**__

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><p><em>Its complicated.<em>

Those were the first coherent words in Scarlett O'Hara Butler's mind after it happened. The computer date read September 30, 2011, 11.11 p.m., when her first instinctive move had been to update her Facebook relationship status from _married _to _divorced_. Why did she want to avoid the inevitable? After all, it had been a year since her husband had walked out.

And in a year, she had made no changes to her profile. After all, she was still married.

But now, the State of Georgia had put that asunder; she had the documentation to prove it. So here it was, a year after the fact, and she was forced with the decision.

She made the change and reflexively pressed save before she could change anything else.

_Its complicated._

She saw no need to add the additional disclaimer of divorce because there would be no mistaking what exactly had occurred. Her 239 friends, a mixture between Atlanta's best people and miserable reprobates that had a lot of money and therefore merited her Facebook friendship, had probably known that it was coming before she had. After all, her husband - no, ex-husband - had done the duty round as soon as the papers had been finalized. Her Uncle Henry Hamilton, not her uncle really, but a misanthropic old bastard who had been the uncle to her son's father - Henry had called Rhett's settlement more than generous, his alimony agreement unprecedented…and his continued patronage of Henry's firm hadn't been so bad either.

Scarlett had gotten through the whole mess by some lucky combination of liquor and what her therapist had called the vortex effect, but which Scarlett was privately certain was simply an added benefit of the alcohol. Whatever the case might have been, it was an undisputed fact that she had shown up at the damned hearing inordinately intoxicated. So much so on the day that she affixed her signature to the divorce decree, Ashley had had to pick her up at the courthouse and drive her home. How was that for complicated?

Ah, Ashley.

She clicked on his profile as she surfed through the 239. George Ashley Wilkes. Thirty-eight years old. Occupation - Kennedy's Irish Pub, General Manager. _That's rich_, Scarlett thought to herself. Ashley had been in the corporate world like the rest of their quality friends, old money all of them. Recession had hit the economy like a tidal wave the decade before and the majority of their peers had lost everything. Her Pa, loveable darling that he had been, was struck a double blow when her mother had died suddenly the year after the big crash. They'd been struggling financially for months, and Scarlett herself was privately uncertain if her mother's heart attack could have been the result of stress of the crash itself or merely just the shock of the events that had transpired before it had ever occurred.

Scarlett's senior year of high school had been pretty interesting. That had largely been Ashley's fault. Ashley of course, having chosen Homecoming Weekend to announce his engagement to Melanie Hamilton, a mealy-mouthed ninny only a year or so older than Scarlett, had no possible way of knowing that he had started it all, but Scarlett still blamed him, in retrospect.

_Its Complicated._

Scarlett sighed as she surfed through Ashley's pictures. Tall, blonde handsome Ashley. He _would_ be available now. Now that she had grown up enough to realize that it had been Rhett all along that she had wanted, not Ashley. She paused as she reached 43 of 52. Melanie. Who would have been with her in that courtroom, but wasn't. Who would have listened when she told her what had happened. Someone for whom Scarlett's story wouldn't have come off at all elliptical - she simply would have understood. But Melanie was not there. Twelve months and eleven days before, Melanie had died. She had discovered the previous July that she was suffering from Stage 4 ovarian cancer, the incurable, inoperable sort - around the same time, she had realized that she was pregnant. Neither mother or child survived that dreary September day, even though Melanie had done everything known to mankind to ensure that her child would be born healthily. She had refused any and all chemotherapy and radiation, she ate a high calorie diet - it was too much for her, though.

It was, for Scarlett, the straw that broke the camel's back. It certainly was the event that had cut loose any fixed ideas she had possessed about life - or death, for that matter. Not that tragedy had never struck her.

_Its Complicated_.

Back to Ashley, and Melanie - Scarlett's senior year of high school was supposed to be the crowning jewel of four years of absolute debauchery and scandalous daring do at Fayetteville Prep, the elite boarding school for young ladies and gentlemen of good Georgia breeding. Scarlett had managed in a single year to earn more boyfriends and lose more girlfriends than anyone in the school's hundred and ten year history. It had been Homecoming Weekend, and Ashley-freaking-Wilkes showed up for the football game, fresh from Harvard and looking more and more Brad Pitt-esque with every passing year. Scarlett had been a varsity cheerleader, and had seized the opportunity to tell Ashley how she had always felt about him. He had been her next door neighbor, before he ran off to Harvard and got serious. That Ashley had been fun and flirtatious and easy-going. This new Ashley, the one Scarlett didn't know had shown up in the Old Ashley's stead, had brought with him a new girlfriend. Well, she wasn't exactly new… She had been a few years ahead of Scarlett at Fayetteville, then had gone off to Wellesley or some other Women's Lib college and then had gotten her Masters in Social Work or something. It wasn't that Melanie wasn't intelligent - Scarlett would have been happy to admit even then that Melanie was by far more intellectually equal to Ashley than she herself would have been. It was simply that Melanie, or Melly, as she insisted that Scarlett call her that night they had been reacquainted, was as plain as Scarlett was pretty, as capable of turning a beau's head as Scarlett was of keeping gal pals - but Melly was so damned nice. Scarlett had always been weary of nice people. They were like butter. Lovely on biscuits but deadly to one's figure and one's arteries - ultimately, avoided entirely unless absolutely necessary.

But Ashley hadn't bothered telling her that he and Melly had an understanding. No, he had let her chase after him all weekend. He'd invited her to ride in his Aston-Martin home to Clayton County for the weekend and had even stayed for dinner, which of course had solidified in Scarlett's mind his desire to stay even longer. She hadn't been a bad girl then, per se. That was, she still held the V-card, which would have pleased her Catholic parents very much, although their expectations probably wouldn't have been that high. Her sister Suellen, on the other hand, had lost it her sophomore year and been labeled the resident slut for the rest of the term - a rumor Scarlett herself had probably had most likely had a hand in starting…Sue had been so shamed by it all that she'd had to resort to dating much older men. Enter Frank Kennedy, affable and almost forty. But it wasn't like Sue was going to find anyone else…

Back to Ashley. He invited Scarlett and her sisters and her parents to the ginormous birthday party that his parents were throwing for him. The Wilkes's were not the most practical of folks on a good day, but this was going to be a nice party - white linen tablecloths, black tie - the works…

Scarlett had, naturally, been set to return to school, but ended up staying for the weekend in order to attend Ashley's party. Unbeknownst to her, Ashley already had acquired an escort in Melanie, who had brought her brother Charlie with her. Charlie was the sort of young man who had an IQ of a bizillion but had never experienced any success whatsoever with women. He was nice, Charlie, but so….awkward? Nonetheless, the midnight announcement that Ashley was not only dating Melanie but actually marrying her caught Scarlett so off guard that she had one glass of champagne too many, then started taking shots with some friend of Frank Kennedy's - a friend whom she would get to know much better at a later date - and found that Charlie Hamilton looked pretty damned good after about twelve. The sight of Ashley sticking his tongue down Melanie's throat in the middle of the dance floor cemented her initial intention to leave with Charlie, who couldn't believe his good fortune.

They had made out in her parents' bedroom and she had initiated the obvious follow-up act. Charlie had been shit-faced, but not so much that his gentlemanly instincts disappeared entirely. Gentlemen, after all, do not allow a lady to perform _that_.

But Charlie was not entirely hopeless in the love department, and after a great deal of persuasion by Scarlett, he submitted to her charms. Obviously. Hence the complication that would manifest itself three months later.

Scarlett had been attempting to break up with Charlie, who called her every moment from Virginia Tech, where he was getting his second PhD or something equally unexciting - when a trip to the school nurse for an upset stomach yielded a pregnancy test and a call to the Headmaster's office. Her parents had had to be called and it was all over school by lunchtime that Scarlett O'Hara was having a baby. She was going to call Charlie and tell him…assuming that her Pa didn't shoot him before she had a chance to…but she never got to. Instead, she got a call from Boston at five thirty in the evening. She had picked up the phone expecting Ashley, of all people. It was Melanie. It was Melanie telling her that Charlie was dead. A car crash, five miles from campus. Scarlett had wished that _she_ was dead.

_Its Complicated._

So she had traded in her pom-poms for diapers and vomited and cried and lamented the loss of her figure, her social life - she had been set to go to the University of Georgia. She would have been a Tri Delta like her mother had been. Instead, she was pregnant with stupid Charles Hamilton's stupid baby. Getting rid of it, her mother had warned her in no uncertain terms, was not only a mortal sin - it was simply not something to be discussed.

Wade Hampton Hamilton was born a week after what would have been her senior prom and two days after her seventeenth birthday. The crash - that is - the crash that ruined not only her father financially, but Ashley's father and all of their friends' fathers happened that summer. There were businesses that over-speculated and mishandled investments. There were people being pulled out of Fayetteville because their father had been arrested for tax evasion. It had been a time of such turmoil that Scarlett had become yesterday's news. But still, she had been glad to accept Melanie's offer of a place to stay. Her mother was willing to help with Wade, but only to a point - she had expected Scarlett to take up responsibility for him - and she had unequivocally banned her from attending parties.

Rhett had changed that. Frank Kennedy's business associate, from whom Scarlett had taken all of the shots the evening of Ashley's party - was actually a wealthy banking executive from Charleston. Wealthy was an understatement. Rhett was loaded. But he was not received, despite his good family connections. After all, it was Rhett who was buying all of Scarlett's friend's parents bankrupt companies, readjusting them and reselling them for handsome profits to overseas buyers.

Rhett was so sexy then, still young and handsome. She could recall his black snapping eyes and unnaturally white smile. And he liked her. Almost immediately, according to him. Of course, his ploy to get her drunk and hook up with her had failed dismally. (That particular detail, he'd been somewhat glad about, as she had not been legal at the time - a fact of which he had only recently become aware.) But he had been nice, since she had moved to Atlanta with Melanie (Melanie, who was Ashley's wife by then), so Scarlett allowed him to call…

So life had gone on and Melanie and Ashley had their son, Beau, the having of whom damn near killed Melanie. Rhett grew a shred of a conscience and turned himself into the federal government for his part in an embezzlement scheme - and he and six or seven other prominent men in their circle had served a year and a half for the crime. Ashley had been implicated too, and lost his father's company as a result.

Financially ruined, Scarlett, now almost nineteen, was working as a waitress at Frank Kennedy's measly excuse for a restaurant. The man had left the corporate world with the rest of them, but had inherited his new endeavor from an elderly aunt. The profit margin was almost zero, and Scarlett learned exactly what it meant to survive on $2.50 an hour plus tips - not exactly enough to feed herself and a squalling, fussy baby that she had never wanted in the first place.

When her mother died, she had been devastated - when her father followed, the debts mounted and the bank was threatening to repossess their house…In an act of desperation, Scarlett had seduced and married her boss, her sister's man. That had been a war.

But it had been worth it. Within two years, Kennedy's became an Atlanta institution. Because of her, largely.

Well, Frank had had the idea that it should be family friendly, and non-smoking. But it had been Scarlett's vision that had driven it to its current state of success - that and her vow to never wait a single table again. That job, she left to Melanie. Of course, she had recruited Ashley to become first the GM, then a partner in the business. Of the top one hundred restaurants in Atlanta, they had become number three in two years…

If not for the dark spot of Ella's birth and her two month's maternity leave, Scarlett knew that they would have been number one.

Then Frank died. Shot in the head on the way home from work. And Scarlett had never gotten over that. Not that she loved Frank - she found him fussy, like a chicken, and absolutely tortuous to go to bed with…but he was kind, and a good provider. Even if all of Atlanta did call her a gold-digger.

Rhett showing up didn't help matters. Another whirlwind courtship and another marriage, this time in Vegas.

She sighed as she focused on Ashley's pictures. She had loved Ashley for so damn long, she hadn't known anything else to do but continue in her blindness. And by the time she had figured out that it was Rhett she had loved all those years, it was too late. Bonnie dying didn't help.

Bonnie. Bonnie.

Scarlett didn't dwell on that subject overlong. It was still too raw, too fresh - painful in a way that losing her parents had not been. Bonnie had only been four - just a pretty, vivacious child - by far her favorite of the three.

"Mother?" Wade Hampton, Charles Hamilton's boy without a doubt, knocked hesitantly on his mother's study door.

"What is it?" Scarlett snapped, closing her laptop in a hurry.

"The mail's here," her son handed it to her shyly. "Something from Charleston. And Ella says its time for you to take her to violin."

Scarlett tore the cream colored envelope with uncharted eagerness. Perhaps it was Rhett admitting the error of his ways, that the divorce had been a complete mistake on his part and that he was ready and willing to take her back.

The fact that he would have called or texted was lost upon her.

It was not that.

Scarlett frowned as she pulled out the invitation, then the small, handwritten card in Rhett's elegant penmanship.

_I hope that you could find it in your heart to be happy for me - I want Wade and Ella to be part of my life, if at all possible…Anne and I both would love to spend some time alone with them before the ceremony. You are most welcome here, too. _

_Best, _

_Rhett_

God damn the man. He was marrying a debutante from his hometown. Mousy-haired, dull voiced Harvard Law School graduate Anne Hampton. La-de-da.

She had known that Rhett was dating Anne. Who didn't? He certainly flaunted her enough while he had still been married to her, Scarlett. Even Ashley had noticed…but to _marry_ her? He who had been the most confirmed bachelor in the entire country, who had married Scarlett because he had wanted her more than any other woman - and now, he was marrying someone who made Melly look like a beauty queen. Not bloody likely.

The wheels in Scarlett's head began turning.

She would go to Charleston. And she'd go with a date. She'd bring the man that had always made Rhett the most jealous - the man who had started all the complication in her complicated wreck of a life. She'd just need to ask him.

"Mother?" Wade asked hesitantly.

"What, Wade? Oh, right, you need to go to violin."

He shook his head. "Chess club. Ella has violin."

"Right, okay, get in the car. Make sure Ella remembers her violin this time."

Scarlett rolled her eyes as her son shut the door behind him. Her children really were odd, both of them, for all that she did love them.

She grabbed her keys first, then her iPhone. She'd text Ashley now - no, Rhett first, telling him that he could expect five of them - no, better to just show up.

She found Ashley's contact, hurriedly wrote her message and sent it.

_Party to crash - hope ur ready_

He responded immediately; bless his heart, he was never far from his own iPhone.

_Saw announcement in the paper. Will be glad to be of any help._

She smiled a genuine smile for the first time in weeks. Rhett Butler would rue the day he invited her to his wedding to another woman. If he wasn't writhing with agony at the sight of her and Ashley… well… he would be … she would see to that.


	2. Angered

_**Note: Thank you so much, to those who have left reviews! As always, any and all feedback is solicited. (I hope that "modern" Scarlett, et al are recognizable and fairly true to character…) All of the characters, of course, are the intellectual property of Margaret Mitchell.**_

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><p>At some point, in the interest of remembering what seemed most striking about what had happened, Scarlett considered the events which had transpired between Rhett's walking out and this, this seemingly ordinary day, blackened by that damn invitation.<p>

_I don't give a damn. Don't, don't, don't give a damn. Yes I do. I do give a damn, I do, I do, I do. _

What had she been thinking, adding the word ordinary? There was nothing ordinary about it - it was never _ordinary_ with Rhett involved. It was the fact that the ordinary nature of everything following the divorce and preceding the invitation was preventing her from truly comprehending what had happened, or absorbing it, or incorporating it, or truly believing that it had happened, for that matter. But it had happened. That damn invitation was tucked inside the sun visor of her car. The silver Porsche Panamera Hybrid had been Rhett's, but for some reason or another she had ended up with it in the divorce settlement…she vaguely remembered something he had said about Wade liking it…

"Mother?" Wade was saying. "Mother?"

"Yes, Wade Hampton?"

"You just drove past school…"

"School, isn't it Saturday…? Oh dear. Sorry, Ella. I forgot about violin."

Scarlett could see Ella roll her eyes in the mirror. She was sitting in the backseat with her arms folded across her chest.

"Are we going to Charleston next weekend?" Wade asked.

It was Scarlett's turn to roll her eyes. "I suppose so. Though why we're going, I'm not really sure."

"Uncle Rhett's getting married again," Ella said matter-of-factly. She had taken out her digital camera and was flipping through pictures from the previous year and a half. "Look, Mother, this was when Uncle Rhett was here last."

She shoved the camera up front, tossing it into Scarlett's lap.

"Put that thing away," Scarlett snapped. "Its hard enough for me to concentrate in this traffic without you throwing things at me."

She had managed to glance down at Rhett's face in the screen. He had come for Ella's school play. She had told him that it was unnecessary but he had flown down for the night anyway, saying that it was the highlight of Ella's young life to be Tiger Lily in the school's production of _Peter Pan_ and he'd be sorry not to get to see it. Scarlett had planned to take full advantage of his visit, but she had forgotten that Beau had gotten the part of Peter and that Ashley, naturally, needed to be there. So she had spent opening night at the restaurant, hoping that Rhett would bring the children by for dinner after the play, only to be disappointed that they were with Ashley and Beau. Ashley had told her about Anne, then. Rhett's new girlfriend. Oh, she was a catch, Ashley had said. The best family in Charleston, almost as pedigreed as Rhett's own. A degree from Harvard Law. A real humanitarian…lots of pro bono work in the inner cities…Still, the alarm bells didn't go off inside Scarlett's head, even then.

Her first question to Ashley had been easy: "Is she prettier than me?"

His answer should have been, "No, but she's younger."

But no. Loyal, honorable, always-half-smitten-but-never-willing-to-do-anything-about-it Ashley had said, "Of course not, Scarlett."

And that had satisfied her, then. Of course Rhett was on the rebound - of course he'd drink himself silly with a blue-blooded intellectual like that Anne. She was probably better company than that white trash hooker he'd kept around while he had been married to her; what was her name, Belle? What a trip. That had been how Scarlett's lawyer had gotten around the prenup. But Rhett hadn't really tried to enforce it; no, he had rather bragged about Belle. It was a point of pride for him, his sexual prowess...and he had thrown Belle in Scarlett's face at every chance. Scarlett seethed as she thought about it, nearly missing the turn into the school again. She swerved into the turning lane, earning an angry honk from the car she had cut off.

"They seemed mad," Wade observed quietly.

"Fiddle-dee-dee." Scarlett shook her head. Atlanta drivers. She had been confronted by a sudden disaster - she had bigger fish to fry then placating the other motorists…or taking her children to their respective extracurricular activities, for that matter.

"Alright Ella," she said as she pulled to the curb. "I'll pick you up at three-thirty. Please don't be late this time."

"I wasn't late last time, Mother," Ella protested, "I told you we didn't dismiss until five and you were early."

Scarlett heaved a sigh. "Well, its three-thirty today, I hope. I have a lot to do before the blue and gold gala…I've never left Hugh in charge of the pub and you know how nervous it makes me…" Of course Ella had no idea how nervous it made her. "Have fun. Try not to get sick again all over Miss Ratchet."

"Miss _Pritchett_, Mother," Ella giggled. "I won't, I promise. I only did on Thursday 'cause I was playing on the merry-go-round with Chablis before lessons."

Chablis. The imaginary friend of the week. Only a child of mine would name an imaginary friend after a type of wine, Scarlett thought to herself.

"Alright, Ella. Well, let's not do that again, please."

Miss Pritchett had made it quite clear last Thursday that if it happened again, Ella wouldn't be welcomed back in lessons. And every young girl of good breeding took violin. Scarlett was not about to have Ella be the only one who did not.

"Yes, Mother," Ella nodded, picking up her violin and exiting the car. "Come on, Chablis!"

Wade sank back into the front seat and took out his phone, then heaved a loud sigh before replacing it in his jeans pocket.

"What's the matter with you?" Scarlett asked with frustration heavy in her voice.

"I texted Alice earlier. She never said anything."

"Alice? Who's Alice?" Scarlett asked as she rounded the circular drive and looked both ways before pulling back out onto the main road.

"She's in my class. Alice Pecard."

"Sounds like a Disney character," Scarlett joked. "I suppose she's an extension of the larger Meriwether clan? Dolly et al?"

Wade nodded. "Mrs. Meriwether is her grandma. I sat next to her in Sunday school but she made me sit in the back with Beau instead."

Again Scarlett felt compelled to roll her eyes. Her children were Catholics of course, as she was; however, all of the other children attended the Methodist Church, which had the better youth group. Wade and Ella, therefore, had been attending Sunday school there, which Dolly Meriwether, grand dame of Atlanta society, ruled over with an iron fist.

"The old buffalo. So are you and Alice … a thing?"

Wade blushed. "No, no. Alice barely knows I exist."

"Then why are you texting her?"

"She needs my help in algebra."

Oh the woes of eighth grade. Scarlett had been one of those girls…the ones who lived to make the smart boys fall in love with them in order to receive help with homework. She would never in a million years have dreamed that her son would grow up to be one of those boys.

"Well, I wouldn't help her, Wade. She sounds like a very mean girl and she's just using you…"

"Oh no!" his eyes widened with all the innocence of a shy boy's first love. "You don't know Alice like I do, Mother. She's perfect in every way. And she's so nice and she's really smart and she's just…oh Mother, she's amazing."

Oh boy. She'd opened the floodgates. Not that she didn't care about Wade Hampton's love life; she simply was more preoccupied with other things, such as the fact that Rhett was marrying someone else. Wade _should_ be talking to Rhett about such things, not her. And once Rhett was married…Anne probably wouldn't allow him to spend long hours on the phone with children who weren't even his. If Bonnie were still alive…no, she wouldn't think about that…there was no use thinking about that…

"So what are you going to do about it, Wade?" Scarlett asked, her tone slightly softened.

"Well," he said, his brown eyes as big as saucers, "I wanted to ask her to the Homecoming dance."

"You have a homecoming dance in the eighth grade?"

"Oh yes," Wade shook his head emphatically. "Its during school. Its next week, actually. Next Thursday."

Damn it. She wanted to be in Charleston by Thursday. Maybe it wouldn't work out with Alice and he wouldn't want to go alone.

"So, you asked Alice?"

He nodded. "But she didn't text me back yet."

Scarlett could feel her heart breaking on her son's behalf. Of course Alice wouldn't answer. Then she'd make some clever excuse at school on Monday, a sick grandmother, an urgent trip out of town … only to be miraculously recovered for the dance on Thursday, which she would show up to with the cutest boy in school … Oh yes, Scarlett knew the game; she had played it in her day.

They were silent until they reached Kennedy's, already full with lunch patrons, many of whom said hello to Scarlett as she entered, Wade following behind her, his eyes glued to his phone, willing it to light up.

"Put that away, Wade Hampton," Scarlett said gently, "Help Prissy up at the hostess stand and see if she needs you to do anything."

"Scarlett!" she heard the resonant sounding male voice coming from the direction of the kitchen, and she rounded to face its owner. _Ashley_.

Tall, blonde, good-looking Ashley, moving toward her with the non-sequential inexorability of a dream. The lights from the ceiling were shining upon his golden hair, giving him a halo effect. He had always floated, not walked; if she had so much as blinked, he might have flown. Rhett, on the other hand, had been completely real, completely tangible…Why hadn't she seen it until it was too late?

"I'm glad you're here, my dear," he said, breaking the spell and jerking her back into reality. He _was_ really little more than inept with the day to day running of the restaurant. Whatever had he managed to do today?

"I'm about to take my lunch, and I was hoping we could talk … alone."

She sighed. "Is Hugh here yet?"

Ashley nodded. "He is. And I'll be honest with you, Scarlett, he's managing much more capably than me."

That wouldn't take much, Ashley darling, she thought to herself.

"Alright, grab something to eat and I'll see you up in the office," she said. The office. _Her_ office. The sanctuary in which no one save herself and her accounting ledger and her bottle of E & J brandy were welcome.

A few minutes later, Ashley had invaded, and he took the hamburger he had brought up with him and tore it into pieces so that he could share with her. After a bite, she shook her head.

"What is it, Ashley?"

"Scarlett, you know that you're my oldest and dearest friend…"

"Yes, Ashley." _Same old, same old._

"And you know how much I care about you…" _You're running on. Get on with it._

"Yes, Ashley, of course I do."

"I don't think that I should come to Charleston with you." _What!_

"But Ashley! You have to! I can't go by myself. I could never face Rhett…"

"Because I think that it would be inappropriate. I really do, Scarlett. He wants to see Wade and Ella, not Beau and I."

"He's marrying someone else, Ashley, he could see them all he wanted before he divorced me."

"And you think me going is going to improve things, how?"

"I think that it'll salvage my pride, if nothing else."

"Oh Scarlett, how silly you're being. It'll do naught but rub salt in the poor man's wounds -"

"_His_ wounds? What side are you on, Ashley?"

"Yours of course, my dear. But listen, Scarlett, hear me out, please - what if Rhett is having doubts about the suitability of Anne to his - how shall I phrase this … his _exotic_ temperament. What if he wants to spend a few days with you alone to see if perhaps, his feelings toward you have changed?"

His grey eyes looked truly hopeful, and Scarlett had to give him credit for thinking outside the box. She knew deep down that Rhett still wanted her, after all. That wasn't hard to figure out, and that he was marrying Anne because she was utterly unlike her, Scarlett.

"Won't you at least come, Ashley? You don't have to stay at Rhett's with us … but couldn't you come anyway? I'll put you up in a hotel."

"I couldn't allow you to do that, but thank you for the offer."_ Still chivalrous, even though he doesn't have a penny_.

"Of course I'll come, Scarlett, if you think its best. But do think hard on it, my dear. I recognize your intent…having been the object of your intentions once, I believe that I am an authority…" _Low, Ashley, low._

"But do give him a chance. After all … you did tell me that you still love him."

"I will, Ashley," she promised. "But let's not talk about that now. Let's talk about the blue and gold gala tonight. What are you wearing, for instance?"

"A suit, I suppose," he grinned. "I've never been quite certain as to the attire. But it seems fancier than last year, remember, Melly always did it at the church…"

"I remember. Trust that Maybelle Meriwether to want to outdo everybody else. She'd never acquiesce to having her first year as PTA president be marked with comparisons to Melly." _Of course, Melly's PTA events were never that fun…but that was beside the point._

"I know, she was over here earlier today, actually. She's booked the music room for next Thursday night after the kids' school dance. She's calling it a mixer. Can you imagine, Scarlett, Beau and Wade going to school dances already?"

"I thought that it was just an eighth grade dance -" Scarlett said, more sharply than she had meant. "Beau's only in seventh."

"Oh, right, I forgot to tell you. He's terribly excited. Some eighth grade girl asked him yesterday. Alice, I think her name was."

_Poor Wade, waiting for her to text him back._

"Of course she did."

"Do you know her, Scarlett? Beau says she's quite pretty. Of course, he's of the age where girls in general are remarkably pretty…"

"I can't say that I do."

_Oh she would have words with Maybelle Meriweather-Pecard tonight. Having the nerve to book an entire room in Scarlett's own restaurant and not invite Scarlett's own son? Not on her life. _

She glanced down at her watch and saw the time. 3:15 already. "I need to go, Ashley. Ella's at school at violin and I need to pick her up and then I'll be back here by five to prep Hugh…then, when's the thing, six, seven?"

"Six-thirty, I think," Ashley stood up as she did. "Scarlett, would you mind terribly if I met you here and we rode together? I'm just not feeling up to being accosted by all of the divorcees tonight."

_Bastard. Who's using who, now, Ashley Wilkes?_

"Sure," Scarlett said halfheartedly. "That's fine."

He pecked her on the cheek. "Thank you, my dear. I knew that you would understand."

It had seemed an eternity had gone by in the time that she and Wade had said goodbye to Ashley at the pub and picked Ella up and she had showered, changed into an emerald green silk mini-dress with black chandelier earrings and her new Jimmy Choo's, and put the fear of God into Hugh that he was to call her immediately in the event of any mishaps during the dinner service. After she had attained his solemn vow that he would do so, she allowed Ashley to take her arm and escort her to the parking lot.

"Want me to drive?" she asked.

"I will," he smiled, " - those shoes of yours don't look very safe for managing a vehicle."

She smiled as they reached his old green Volvo and he held open the door for her. "Thank you, Ashley, but you know, I managed just fine on the way here."

"You would. Melly always said that you would wait tables in five inch heels. She was quite in awe."

"Well, Frank started it…" Scarlett smirked slightly, remembering her former husband's fetish for women in stilettos. It had been instrumental in the seduction…yuck…nothing about Frank had evoked any sort of passion from within her. She had just pretended that it was Ashley she was sleeping with…that had been before Rhett…now she couldn't imagine sleeping with Ashley, or anyone else, for that matter.

"Scarlett?"

"What?"

"I just asked if you'd prefer the radio on or off?"

She looked at his earnest face, his finger poised above the on button of the radio - unwilling or unable to perform an action without her consent. And she burst out laughing.

Suddenly, the fury she had kept bottled up inside of herself left her completely, and for a moment, she was Scarlett O'Hara again, sixteen years old and carefree. She looked out the window, discomfited slightly by the strange expression Ashley wore on his face. _He's thinking of this as a date. Just like Wade would think of a date. We go to the school dance, hold hands, steal a kiss, and go home_. _Oh Ashley, its not you, not now - your heart will always belong to Melly just as mine will always belong to Rhett_.

"It's a lovely night," Ashley said finally.

Scarlett nodded. "I'm going to make that Maybelle rue the day she ever met me, wait and see if I don't … how dare she not invite Wade Hampton to her daughter's party? How dare she?"

"I thought you said that Wade didn't give a hoot about those parties?"

"He doesn't. But that's besides the point. If he's not invited, she can just find another venue for her precious _mixer_."

"I must say, that conversation should certainly liven up the evening," Ashley smiled.

"Just wait, Ashley," Scarlett observed her reflection in the side mirror. "You just wait…"

"Here we are," Ashley pulled up toward the valet stand in the turnaround of the Renaissance. "This is nice. I've never stayed here."

"I have," Scarlett said as the bellman opened her door for her. _With Rhett. In the Presidential suite._

She got out of the car and walked over the white line and onto the curb as she waited for Ashley to get the key off the ring to hand to the valet, pausing to admire the Lamborghini Aventador that had pulled up in front of them. Fast luxury cars had always interested her, and a Lamborghini was one which Rhett had never owned but had always wanted. It was beautiful, and she hurriedly pulled out her iPhone to snap a picture of it. Maybe she'd get lucky and the driver would be a ridiculously good looking man with whom she could pose in front of the car, post it on Facebook, and Rhett would die of jealousy. She walked a little closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of the driver before the valet took the car away.

The driver of the car was Rhett.

She did not risk waiting for panic to follow. She avoided looking and hurriedly rounded about and grabbed Ashley's arm and pulled him inside.

"Ma'am, sir," the bellman greeted them. "Checking in?"

"No, no," Ashley said hurriedly, as if to avoid any misunderstanding. "We're on the way to our children's school's annual gala, actually -"

"Blue and gold?" the bellman said with a big smile, as if they had not been the first people headed in that direction. "Grand Ballroom, right down that first hall."

Scarlett grabbed Ashley's hand and dragged him forward.

"Scarlett?" he said with worry. "What is it?"

"I saw Rhett. I saw him, Ashley, he's here."

"Where?"

"Oh don't look, Ashley. In that Lamborghini, parked in front of you, didn't you see -"

"Oh was that was that was?"

She rolled her eyes, "Yes and _Rhett_ was driving it."

"I doubt that, Scarlett. Be serious. What would he be doing in Atlanta, anyway? Certainly not going to the PTA party, I wouldn't think. Besides, he is getting married next weekend."

"I realize that, Ashley, thank you," Scarlett sighed. "I suppose you're right. But I could have sworn…"

"You're on edge, my dear. But you look gorgeous, if that's any consolation."

"Oh Ashley, how you do run on…" _It did make her feel better._


	3. Surprised

**So, here I am with Chapter 3. Thank you for all the support - I know that the general preference in the GWTW fandom is inclined toward stories of Rhett and Scarlett in their own time (myself included) - so I am super grateful for all the positive feedback ! I've tried to keep them fairly true to character, so, as always, I hope you'll tell me how I did. You guys are awesome! Thanks! **

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><p>The band had been brought in from Birmingham. A jazz ensemble, big-band type. "As I Remember You," was long a favorite of Scarlett's. Her Pa had sung it to her, when she was a little girl.<p>

She wished that Gerald O'Hara was there to hear it.

"They're great, aren't they?" Ashley asked, appearing next to Scarlett holding two glasses of chardonnay. "How long ago was it when the life of any party last played "Shine, Little Glowworm" upside down from under the piano?"

Scarlett laughed hollowly. She wasn't all together familiar with the classic big-band stuff - Rhett had been. Rhett would have known every tune backwards and forwards and the corresponding dance steps.

"I think that the Mills Brothers did the original recording of that…" Ashley was saying.

She didn't give a fig who had done the damn song originally. But what she would have given to be able to discuss it with Rhett…what would she have given to be able to discuss anything at all with Rhett? What would she have given to be able to say one small thing that made him happy? What would that one small thing be - _I still love you, please don't marry Anne -_ knowing him, even if she had said it in time, it might not have worked.

"Scarlett?" Ashley's brow was furrowed with concern. "Are you sure you're alright, my dear?"

What was wrong with her? Just because she had thought that she'd seen Rhett, she was going to pieces. She downed the glass of wine with uncharted speed, reached for another and did the same.

"I've never been better, Ashley," she put the glass down on the bar and rounded to face him. "Dance with me."

His face looked surprised. "If you'd like."

"Come on." She grabbed his hand and pulled him out to the dance floor. She felt his arms around her, could feel the hardness of his body as he pulled her to him. So the old feelings were still there, at least on his end. And Melly had been dead over a year…it would be perfectly acceptable…

She was drunk with wine and with self-disgust.

Once again, she had allowed Rhett - not even him, merely some man who resembled him - to throw her into a panic, and here she was drawing Ashley into her madness. For nothing! She had only fooled herself in the year after Rhett had walked out, believing that Scarlett O'Hara was capable of altruistic ideals that were so dear to other women.

True love conquers all.

What a load of rot. The foolish idea that a cold-hearted bastard like her ex-husband who briefly believed that there was a modicum of goodness squirming about inside of either one of them - when they both were lost causes. And she had been desperate to recover it in hopes of saving herself from complete emotional ruin. Now that Melly was dead…

And what a twisted fate it was that Ashley would be receptive _now_ - now that Melly was dead and Rhett was getting married to someone else. What choice did she have?

She felt a tingle run down her spine. Ashley's fingers were running through her hair. _Oh my God - he's going to kiss me in front of everyone_.

"Damn it," she said through her teeth.

"What is it, Scarlett?" he looked down. "Scarlett - you look like you're going to be sick."

She knew every black hair on his head. She was well acquainted with the broadness of his shoulders and his narrow hips. His demeanor, she knew well too - his black eyes driving through the flurry of people straight at her, as if he anticipated an attack. Yes, she had become well accustomed to his hatred of her … and clearly she had had the ability to recognize a devil when she saw one. But even worse than the snarl upon his handsome face was the realization that Ashley's hand was rapidly moving south down her back…

"Rhett," she muttered. "He's here!" came her voice a little louder, and she looked toward the door to discover her ex-husband smirking at her discomposure.

"That's quite…strange," Ashley said. She detected a twinge of disappointment in his voice.

"You have no idea."

He padded obediently at her side. "Want back-up?"

She shook her head. "I'll just…go and see what he wants."

Maybelle Meriwether-Pecard had seen Rhett too, and clearly liked what she saw. She and several of the other who's-who of the room-mothers had swarmed him, grinning up at him with such adoration that her own resentment towards the man festered so fiercely that she wanted to attack him with her stiletto and hack away the handsomeness of his face.

"Rhett." Scarlett said aloud. Immediately Maybelle and her cohorts turned from cheaply dressed hookers to fake-smiling darlings that flashed her equally sickening glances as she passed. Was it…pity? She glared at Maybelle. She'd tell her exactly what she thought of her later…after she'd dealt with Rhett.

"They won't harm you." Rhett smirked as she met his eyes, arms crossed. "You know, Scarlett, animals sense when you don't like them."

"Oh shut up."

Rhett laughed. "I thought it was funny. Especially since I'd bet my life savings you were just comparing old Maybelle to a dog in heat."

_Damn him_.

"You were always remarkably _astute_, Rhett."

Again he let out a mighty laugh. "Astute has nothing to do with it, Scarlett. I can read you like a book."

"When did you get here?" she snapped, thoroughly irritated. She had had to endure his teasing while they were married. No more, by God, no more.

"Or better yet, why?"

"Why…am I here..? Well as always, dear Scarlett, the thought of your warm hospitality and charming face…"

"Shut up - shut _up_! You didn't have to come _here_."

"I thought it would be fun. I heard you were on the PTA and couldn't pass up the opportunity to witness you kissing Maybelle's ass."

"Ha! That's what you thought?"

"Naturally, I knew it couldn't be true…"

She looked up into his face, fighting with every part of her being the familiar emotions which she always experienced when in his presence. Fury, yes. Disgust, even more so. Dread. Desire.

Even her desire to wring his decrepit neck felt inconsequential to the consternation which she always felt when they were face to face. And he was fickle, too. She never knew if one of his many faces would be emitting kindness or bite. But she had to ask…

"Did you come alone?"

His inky eyes fixed her, and a trace of real amusement showed up in his face at the shimmering glow of heat and fear on hers.

"Certainly not," he replied.

Her heart sank.

"Well, where is she?" Scarlett said, her voice low. "I suppose that congratulations are in order."

"Whom might you be referring to?"

"You know damn well - well I suppose neither you or her gave a thought about what your coming here would mean for me."

"I'm quite sure I don't know what you mean."

She sniffed and turned one shoulder to him, completely livid now. "That I should be forced to watch the man I love fawn over some mealy-mouthed teenager. I'm not in the mood to deal with you now, Rhett and I won't - I won't! When my reputation's already in shards as it is-"

"Teenager? That's rich. Granted my dear, she is several years your junior...but certainly not _that_ many."

"You bastard! How can you even -"

"Do spare me your theatrics, Scarlett. I'm hardly in the mood for them...or for your self-absorption for that matter."

Her eyes widened. "My self-absorption?" She tossed back her black hair and pointed at him. "When you _define_ selfishness! And you and precious _Anne_ expect me just to sit back and behave as though this entire thing hasn't affected me in the slightest? When my husband leaves me without a word, is gone for a year with hardly as much, then divorces me and leaves me hanging out to dry-"

He raised an eyebrow. "You'll survive. You know, I thought that a twelve million dollar settlement was more than generous. Of course, if you require more, you need only ask. But ask quickly, dear Scarlett. As you've so graciously reminded me, my second wife might not take kindly to my distributing funds to my first."

"Your _wife_. She must be a coldhearted little bitch. To marry you, after you had abandoned your children and broken off your marriage without so much as a thought…"

"Our marriage? My dear, it's not as though our sham of a marriage was a real one. Your children needed a father and you needed money, badly. We were nothing more to one another than a means to an end."

A spasm of emotion flashed in Scarlett's eyes. Her mask of contempt began to erode slowly, her composure melting like wax before a flame. She could feel her eyes begin to dampen. Her wounded heart was swelling painfully in her chest.

"Why did you come?"

He shrugged. "Fun. If you must know, I had a business meeting with Henry. I think I might buy a racetrack tomorrow."

She scoffed. "Where'd you get the money for that? Anne?"

"I can see why you might think so, my dear; after all, you cashed my check before I even had a chance to wire the funds over…but you needn't worry…I'm far from impoverished even without my fiancée's assistance."

"I hate you."

"Why? Because I'm successful? I single-handedly made you the richest woman in Atlanta and that's my thanks? How's the restaurant, by the by - Ashley still spectacularly running it into the ground?"

"For your information, we're rated number three in the city -"

"I wonder what's stopping you from reaching number one?"

"Its not Ashley's fault. Why every moment he's working his fingers to the bone-"

"I've seen him work, Scarlett. Its quite amusing. 'Oh yes Hugh; whatever you say, Scarlett. Yes, I have forty minute waits on appetizers and eighty minute waits on entrees, but I'm really managing quite capably'…"

"You make me sick. Teasing him like that when he's just barely gotten over Melly-"

"He plays the grieving husband well, doesn't he? Why, another moment or two on that dance floor and he might have actually made all of your fantasies come true after all this time..."

"Will you _shut up_? Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you were jealous of him."

She thought that she noticed an odd shadow pass over Rhett's face.

"Jealous? No, Scarlett, I've not been jealous of your... activities... with Ashley for a very long time. But I do apologize for making jokes at his expense…he simply is, as always, a very easy target…I do hope you forgive me."

"You can leave now."

"Very well, if that's what you want. I might stop by the house first and see Wade and Ella."

"There's no need. They'll be asleep by now and you'll see them next week. That is, if we're still invited…"

He sighed. "I've rethought it all, Scarlett. I'm not certain that it's entirely appropriate for my ex-wife and stepchildren to be first on the guest list. After all, it _is_ all of Charleston in attendance, not to mention that Anne's family doesn't particularly like the idea…"

Her eyes narrowed. "So it was _Anne's_ idea? It's a wonder that she even let you step into the same room as me, I suppose. Where is she, here?"

He shook his head. "She's out of the country. In Mexico, on a case. She wanted to make certain that the loose ends were tied up before the wedding…" his voice trailed off as he observed her. She felt a new fear taunting her, another sense of uneasiness which threatened her already precarious composure.

"That's why I'm here." He said, his voice kinder. "I wanted to spend some time with you and Wade and Ella." _Before you can't see them anymore_.

"There's no need."

"I want to." Rhett said emphatically.

Silence.

"Do you have a hotel room?" she finally managed, regaining control over her emotions. _She mustn't give up. Not now, not that he was finally here. Keep on fighting, Scarlett. Now more than ever._

"Why ever are you smiling in such a way?" he said, his tone still gentle. "You look so very…sad."

_I am sad, you stupid, selfish prick._

"Don't be silly, Rhett. I'm glad for you, I really am." _Lies. Lies. Lies._

"You can't know how happy it makes me to hear you say that, Scarlett. It would be very…difficult…otherwise."

_Doesn't he see that he's breaking my heart?_

"To answer your question, Scarlett, no. I didn't book a room. I'd hoped that we'd have a chance to talk here, and that you'd be agreeable. I'd hoped to stay at the house."

_At the house?_

"And you think _that's_ more appropriate than us coming to the wedding?"

He nodded, eyes filled with clarity.

"Wade and Ella need to know how serious I am about remaining a part of their lives. And you don't need to pull them out of school just to spend time with me."

_Damn him. He'd just killed the tiniest notion she might have had of his coming having to do with her. _

"Well, as long as you are thinking of them first…" Oh her heart ached. He'd always loved children. He'd loved Wade and Ella, and Bonnie most of all. How long would it be before Anne started popping them out? Wade and Ella would be distant memories then.

"I can assure you that I am," he said, taking Scarlett's small hand and bringing it to his lips.

She could feel her voice quavering. Her eyes widened and her face flushed as his mustache bristles tickled her skin. _Stop it, for God's sake. Stop being nice. I can't bear it._

"When do you leave?"

"Thursday. I'll be out of your hair before the weekend." _Of course you will...You'll be married by the weekend._

And I appreciate your…offer…of hospitality. It'll make things much less awkward. And I promise to stay out of your way, if its your preference. I know that you're busy with the restaurant. I've got quite a bit to do while I'm here, too. So you'll barely see me."

Something in her mien must have signaled to him that she was not pleased with the way the conversation was turning.

"I'd like to pick them up from school tomorrow, if you're agreeable."

She wanted nothing more than to slap the haughtiness from his face.

"That's fine," she heard herself say.

"Good," he replied, his countenance stoic. "I'm not going to linger overlong. Did you drive yourself?"

She hadn't. She had ridden with Ashley. But something inside her shied away from disclosing that to him…besides, her car was at the restaurant…it wouldn't be a total lie…

"Yes."

"Good. Well, I'll leave you to your duty round and I'll head on to the house. I take it the spare key is still hidden under the gargoyle?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, it isn't. I guess you'll have to have mine." She pulled out the skeleton key out of her black velvet clutch. "Leave the door unlocked, won't you?"

He nodded. "Will do. As I said before, I'll try and make myself scarce. I'll sleep in the guestroom."

"No need," she shook her head. "You can sleep in your old room."

He laughed. "I think that Anne might not appreciate that room's close proximity to yours. I'll take the guestroom, but thank you, Scarlett. You're very thoughtful."

With that, he bowed with all the innate aristocratic grace he possessed and quit the room, leaving Scarlett standing there stunned, speechless, and without a key to her own house.

She had been given five days with him...five days before he was out of her life forever.


	4. Noticed

**Chapter 4**

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><p>Once Scarlett got back to the restaurant there had again been certain things that she was expected to do and remember, although she could never begin to identify all of those things. Without a word to Ashley, she retreated to her office and downed half a bottle of E &amp; J and took off for home. Ashley said that he would come over. She responded by saying that there was no need to come over, she would be fine, even with Rhett there. Besides, the children would have been long asleep. She didn't even bother to find Hugh before she left. Hugh was fine, surely. He knew what to do. There was no need to think about the restaurant now, anyway, and she told Ashley that she'd talk to him in the morning.<p>

The moment she was alone in her car, she felt it. The tightness in the throat. Choking, shortness of breath. This was what Rhett Butler did to her.

The feelings only intensified as she pulled in the drive behind the goddamned Lamborghini. She was tempted to run her keys across the side.

Rhett had, as promised, left the door unlocked. He had already gone to bed, by the look of it. There was no sign that he was even there at all. But she knew he was there all the same. Again, her stomach lurched and she felt an intense subjective distress. She would just peek in on the children, just to see if they had seen him and, in case they hadn't, let them know that a man would be walking around their house naked, potentially.

She almost laughed aloud at the thought of Rhett prancing about in the nude. For being such a womanizer, he had never been that kind of a show-off. Ha! Well, not including in bed. He had been happy to show off the _finer points_ of his expertise, then. She wondered how he found Anne, compared to her. The instant in which she asked herself how the other, _younger_ woman compared to her in bed, in _her_ husband's bed, she felt like throwing up.

She walked up the stairs to Ella's room. Sound asleep.

Wade's was next, and he was sitting up in bed, wide awake, iPad on his lap. This was the other bewilderment: he was engaged in a rapid-fire instant messaging conversation. Wade, who never stayed up past nine.

"What are you doing awake, Wade Hampton?"

"Talking."

"Did you walk Jack?"

Jack was the Saint Bernard that Wade had _had_ to have - never mind that Scarlett was deathly allergic to all things furry and slobbery. Since Jack was the furriest, slobberiest dog in existence, Wade had _had_ to have him.

"Yes ma'am."

"Did he do …everything?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good," she said, feeling a little silly. "So, umm, Uncle Rhett is here."

Wade looked up from the computer screen. "What?"

"Uncle Rhett is here."

"Oh, wow. Why?"

"I'm not sure." She couldn't quite deal with telling her twelve-year-old that they had been un-invited to Rhett's wedding.

"Will he still be here tomorrow?" Wade asked.

She nodded.

"Good," Wade said, then returned his eyes to the screen.

"Go to bed soon," she said.

"Yes ma'am. Hey, Mother?"

"Yes, Wade?"

"Do you think that Uncle Rhett is _really_ getting married? You don't think… maybe… he's here because he's changed his mind?"

She sighed. "I'm afraid that he hasn't changed his mind, Wade."

"What's Anne like?"

She didn't know, honestly. She vaguely recalled a pale heart shaped face and a widow's peak. No! She smacked herself internally. That's Melly you're thinking of, you coldhearted bitch. You can't even picture Anne in your mind - call yourself in love with Rhett - bah! You've not even been keeping proper tabs on him.

"She's not very nice," was Scarlett's response, which seemed to please her son.

"Mother?" he said very seriously, "Would you tell me how to get a girl to like me?"

"Wade, honey, I thought we talked about this."

"But Mother, you don't understand."

Want to bet? Scarlett thought to herself. God, she was exhausted. But this was going to be one of those mother-to-son moments that all the "how to raise your pre-teen" books said was so damned important. So she took a seat at the end of the bed.

"Wade, put that thing away and talk to me. What's going on?"

"Nothing, Mother. I just … I just wish that I'd get invited to stuff every now and then. There was another party tonight and I wasn't invited. And Beau said that he would have invited me but he forgot to tell me about it. And that's the second time it's happened this week. He forgot to invite me to sit with him on Thursday at lunch, as well."

Damn it! She had forgotten to talk to Maybelle in her panicked, hurried state. "Well, you don't need to be sitting with the seventh graders anyway."

"But, I don't have any friends in my class."

Good God. She hadn't thought it was _that_ bad.

"Well, there aren't very many nice people in your class, so it probably isn't much of a loss." That probably wasn't the response the book recommended.

"But it's not just them, Mother. It's everybody. And I'm tired of just being the guy who can help with algebra, you know? Oh, never mind, you don't understand."

Why, oh why, had he taken after Charles? Why couldn't he have been charming like Rhett or athletic like her Pa had been in his day? No, he was just like the father he had never known. And she had probably just made it worse for him, enrolling him in the snobbiest, most cliquish school in Atlanta, where the gossip about her and her love life ran rampant like wild fire. Ella was no better, really, but she was too absorbed in her own little world to realize it yet.

"I understand fine, Wade Hampton. I was young once, too, you know. I remember."

"Did you ever like someone that didn't like you back, Mother?"

Ha! Did she ever.

"Yes, I did."

"Really?"

"Can you keep a secret, Wade Hampton? Promise?"

He nodded his head. "Scout's honor."

"When I was a couple years older than you… I don't know, fifteen or so, I liked your Uncle Ashley. I liked him so much that I thought there was nothing he couldn't do. And when he went off to college, I would spend every waking moment thinking about him and wishing and hoping that he'd come back to Clayton County and find me all grown-up and worthy of his attention."

"Well? Did he?" Wade looked impressed.

Scarlett shook her head. She wasn't about to tell him that her feelings for Ashley had lasted any longer than high school; plus, Ashley would never contradict the story if he ever heard it told that way.

"I realized that Uncle Ashley couldn't do everything. And that he wasn't all that great to begin with, I only thought he was. And while I was at it, I made him into something he wasn't. Which was totally unfair, Wade Hampton. And while I was busy chasing after him, I missed out on all sorts of other guys who probably were ten times better." _Or one in particular._

"What happened then?"

_It took me twelve years and Melly dying and Rhett leaving to make me get a clue._

"I met your Dad."

"Oh," Wade looked downcast, like he always did when she talked about Charles, which was rare. Charles had been a relative stranger to her, in all fairness; and for the longest time, she resented him for dying so early and for getting her pregnant at all, and for an even more shamefully long time, she took those feelings of resentment out on her son. But she loved the kid so much - especially now that he was old enough to actually carry on a conversation about things she could relate to. And he was good-looking, if she did say so herself. His curly, light brown hair was the same as Charles' and Melly's had been, and he had really big brown eyes that she found very comforting - another feature of Melly's. And he certainly was a sweetheart; he never gave her a bit of trouble. She could be grateful for that, at least.

"Wade, honey. Don't be upset. Listen here, tomorrow we're going to drive out to Buckhead and I'm going to take you shopping. And we'll pick you out a new pair of jeans for you and a couple new shirts and have Cathleen give you a new haircut. I promise, when I'm finished with you, the girls won't be able to resist you and I promise - promise you'll have a date to that dance. Okay?"

He looked as though someone had handed him a winning lottery ticket. "You mean it, Mother? Just us?"

She was a little at taken aback for two reasons - first, that the boy who had been wearing the same pair of jeans for two and half years "just because he liked the color" was so agreeable to going shopping with her, and second, that she had just dedicated one of her precious few days with Rhett to taking Wade shopping. Oh well, maybe Rhett would come if she told him that she needed him to entertain Ella while she was dealing with Wade. Good plan.

"Just us. Alright, Wade Hampton. Give your mother a kiss and go to sleep."

Her boy obliged, surprising her further by encircling her waist and pressing his head against her chest. He held her for a very long time. "Thanks for understanding, Mother."

She patted his shoulder and kissed him on the forehead, slightly uncomfortable from the moment. Wade never did that to her. Melly, sure, but never her and Rhett.

Maybe she wasn't such a god-awful mother after all, she sighed contentedly as she shut Wade's door behind her and meandered down the hall to her own room, resisting the temptation to go anywhere near the downstairs guest bedroom. Rhett had to think her changed, if she was to get anywhere …not that she was holding out much hope for that.

Shedding her dress and heels, she threw on the closest nightie she could locate. It had been her Valentine's Day present from Ella, a black, short-sleeved shirtie with a graphic of two Scottie dogs kissing and the caption _Its Ruff Being In Love. _Well, damn right, it was. She crawled into her big bed and allowed the satin sheets to caress her bare legs. Those Jimmy Choos had not done her feet any favors. And Rhett was sleeping right below her.

She glanced down at her phone before she went to sleep and saw a text from Ashley, just making sure that she was alright alone.

And she was.

Until the morning. When, only half awake, she reached for her phone she was charging on the bedside table.

Three missed calls. All from Hugh. All before closing.

Shit.

She had taped a card with all of her numbers on the whiteboard in the kitchen and in the office simply because she had anticipated him having trouble. She had even included Ashley's, not that he would be any help in the event of any sudden crisis, but at least Hugh would have it.

Not only had she missed three calls, but she had overslept, too. She called one of the numbers.

"'Ello?"

"Hugh, it's Scarlett. What happened?"

"Huh?"

"You called me. Three times. What happened that I should know about?"

"Well, Scarlett, I'm sorry to have worried you -"

"Hugh, I'm not going to be mad, but just tell me what happened, and fast, please!"

"Well, Scarlett, it's like this-"

"If we've run out of fish and chips again on a Saturday night, I'm firing our kitchen manager."

"But - But Scarlett - I'm your kitchen manager."

"I'm aware of that, Hugh! Now spit it out. What happened?"

"We're number one."

She sat up in bed, completely at a loss.

"Excuse me?"

"I said we're number one, Scarlett. The man from Urbanspoon was at the pub last night to make the announcement 'round closing. That's why I called you quick as I could, cause, umm Scarlett? Scarlett?"

"I'm here."

"We're number one in Atlanta!"

"I realize that, Hugh. Umm, well, thank you. And umm, have a good morning."

"You too, now."

She hung up the phone. Number one in Atlanta. After six long years of hovering in the top five, they were finally number one. What would she do if not berate the staff for failing to gain her the top honor? She didn't need to! Ha! She, Scarlett O'Hara, was the proprietress of the number one rated restaurant in Atlanta!

Then, she got that leaden feeling in her stomach; the same one she had felt upon entering the house and knowing that Rhett was there, but not with her. It was the same leaden feeling she had had in the days and weeks after he had left her. For once, they hadn't had a fight, so she couldn't exactly think about how it had started and how they could fix things. Things were just, done. And now, on the day that she should be joyful and triumphant, he had to come into her house with his _fiancée_ and his Lamborghini just to remind her of what she didn't have. God damn the man.

Then, suddenly, she felt something large and furry make impact with her chest - and then it came - slobber, and lots of it. A large, pink tongue was covering her face as the giant head rubbed against her.

"JACK!" she yelped. "Wade Hampton! Get your dog! Jack! Off the bed, now! JACK!"

Wade's head peeked in the door. "Sorry, Mother. The door was open."

"Get this dog!"

"Jack, here boy!" Wade whistled.

Ella was behind him, holding her grey cat, Baby, who looked as though she had just been awoken from a nap. "Mother, can we get on the bed, too?"

"What?"

Ella took that as a yes, and did a belly flop, cat and all, onto the bed next to Scarlett, who was still fighting off the advances of the dog.

"Mother, kiss Baby!" Ella giggled and positioned the cat dangerously close to her nose.

"ACHOO!" Scarlett sneezed. "Ella! Cat!"

Jack assumed that the sneeze was permission for him to begin licking. Again. And before Scarlett knew it, she was underneath a slobbering, hundred and fifty pound dog, a cat who was yowling with the indignity of it all, and two giggling children, both of whom were now curled up at either side of her. It would have been downright amusing had she not seen a tall, broad-shouldered form standing at the doorway…observing her, first thing in the morning, in a Scottie nightgown, with a dog, a cat, and two children on top of her.

"Good morning, all. I seem to have interrupted you at a very …inopportune moment."

"Uncle Rhett!" Ella sat up and chirped delightedly. Baby the cat took the opportunity to flee and Jack began to bark.

"Hi Uncle Rhett," Wade said, a little less enthusiastically.

"Good morning, children. Scarlett."

And then he was gone.

"Alright," Scarlett said, "Everybody out. Up. Be ready to leave in ten minutes. One, two, three, go."

"Where are we going?" Ella inquired.

"Just get dressed. Shoo. Take the livestock with you. Go."

They were off like shots, Jack tailing Wade and Ella yelling "Baby, hey, Baby!"

Scarlett looked at her reflection in the octagonal mirror on the wall opposite her bed and decided that there was no wonder Rhett left her for a younger woman, even if he hadn't known said younger woman at the time he had done the leaving. She tossed the nightie into the dirty clothes hamper and grabbed the pair of jeans she had discarded on the floor the day before and pulled them on.

She ran a brush through her hair and spritzed it with dry shampoo. It still shone. At least I still have long, pretty hair, Scarlett thought with a vindictive stab of pleasure. Anne had a Dutch-bob going last time she had spied her at last years 4th of July bash in Charleston. That had been the last event that she and Rhett had been together in public as a married couple. They had taken the children to Charleston to see his mother and attend a barbeque before spending the night on Rhett's sailboat watching fireworks. It had been a complete disaster all around. She had been upset because her hair had gotten drenched in the freak thunderstorm which had rained out the barbeque, and Ella had spent the evening throwing up over the side of the boat and Rhett had complained because no one was helping him man the vessel and then he had screamed at Wade when he did something wrong. That had been the worst trip of their married life, and that had been the last time he had been willing to pretend that nothing was wrong, even for the children's sake. He filed for divorce the week after, and it had been finalized on the first anniversary of Melly's death in late September.

And now, a little over a year later, he was marrying little Miss Dutch-bob. No, he could not marry Anne. He couldn't. He mustn't. He wouldn't. She would show him how damned desirable she could still be - even after three children and a divorce. Scarlett O'Hara didn't take no for an answer from anyone else- Why should she make an exception for Rhett?

Her phone started blasting California Girls out of nowhere, and she realized that she had been standing in front of the mirror in the middle of the room wearing no shirt and with the door wide open. Classy, Scarlett, classy.

Ashley had texted her, three short words: How are you?

She rolled her eyes and wrote back the first thing that came to her mind: Ashley, you are so lucky Melly is dead. You don't have to worry about bumping into her.

She regretted it the moment she sent it. Surely he would understand what she meant. She missed Melly terribly and he knew it.

"Oh come on, Ashley, write back," she muttered aloud.

Nothing.

"Waiting on Ashley, I see."

She whirled around, arms hugging her chest to cover it from …him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Spying on me?"

"The door was open and I assumed that you would be dressed, at least. Forgive me for disturbing you."

"You are really the most ill-bred man, coming in here -"

"I'm terribly sorry. Listen, I - I'll just, step outside."

Scarlett smirked in spite of herself. "Just turn around, won't you?"

He obliged, and she retrieved a bra and an emerald colored shirt that was sufficiently "mom-ish" and low-cut that she knew would make her eyes stand out.

"So, what did you want to say?" she said, taking one last glance at her reflection. "You can turn around now."

He did, eyes still closed. "Safe?"

"Open your damn eyes, I'm dressed!"

"Just checking. I'm never certain with you."

"Of what?"

He laughed. "Don't make me say it, Scarlett. I feel as though I'm teetering on the edge of propriety as it is."

"Oh Rhett, how you do run on. I think that propriety went out the window the moment I met you."

"Well, I've reformed, Scarlett. And I want very much to demonstrate how much."

"That's all well and good, Rhett, but I'm really not interested in hearing how much knowing precious Anne has altered your entire outlook on life. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to take the children shopping and out to lunch to celebrate."

"Ah, and might I inquire as to the occasion for celebration? Ashley finally make a move?"

She detected a flicker of jealousy in his face. "Oh Rhett, I'm not going to discuss that sort of thing with you. Like you said, let us err on the side of _propriety_. No, for your information, Kennedy's is now the number one restaurant in Atlanta."

His eyes widened. "Really? I'm impressed. Really, I am. Well done, Scarlett."

No sarcasm. He must be impressed.

"Scarlett?" he said, his tone more serious. "When was the last time we sat down and had a meal? You know, together?"

She laughed. Oh, he was toast. "You mean without the children? What, a year? More?"

"At least. Tell you what, you take them shopping and to lunch and whatever you need to do - I'll make a reservation for two at Bacchanalia. We can… catch up. What do you say?"

He was asking. Oh boy, he was asking! Their entire relationship he had ordered, never asked. Oh Lord in Heaven, maybe there was a chance after all that Anne wasn't all that perfect in his eyes and she, Scarlett, was looking better and better.

Then, loudly, obnoxiously: _California girls we're unforgettable ~ Daisy dukes, bikinis on top ~ Sun-kissed skin so hot will melt your popsicle ~ Ohhh oh Ohhh. _

Ashley. Perfect timing, as always.

His reply to her text: I understand completely. Are you free for dinner tonight?

"Ashley?" Rhett inquired, the picture of politeness. "I still am vying with the honorable Mr. Wilkes for your time, even after you are really no longer my concern."

"When have I ever been your concern, Rhett Butler?" she flashed that coquettish smile that had won her Homecoming Queen.

He returned her smile with a sardonic one of his own. "What does Ashley need? I admit, I'm curious."

"He just wanted to congratulate me on making Number One, thank you very much," she snapped. What Rhett didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"That was charitable of him."

"I thought so." Scarlett brushed past Rhett, just close enough that she knew he would smell her perfume. He had bought the fragrance for one of her birthdays and declared it distinctly _hers_, so she always wore it when she wanted him to notice. He was too perceptive not to notice. He let out a little laugh as she strode out the door with her head high. She hoped that he'd notice how amazing the expensive designer jeans his money had bought for her made her backside look. _Beat that, Anne_, she dared her rival internally - knowing that even after three kids, she still had it.

"You look good, Scarlett. But then again, you always do."


	5. Advised

_**Note: Thank you so much, to those who have left reviews and been so very encouraging! Your feedback has really inspired me to get to work on this story, which incredibly fun to write. (I hope that you'll continue to let me know how I do, as this progresses…) All of the characters, of course, are the intellectual property of Margaret Mitchell.**_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5:<strong>

A few hours later, Scarlett had her hands full of bags, having cleared the length of the mall. Wade was following a step or two behind, his eyes focused on his phone when he thought that his mother wasn't looking. He was holding another bag in his free hand, this one containing a new pair of New Balance sneakers. Ella carried no bags, but was studying the receipt from American Eagle with great interest. After a few minutes, she piped up, "Mother, I just did this in my head, but you still need to spend about a hundred dollars more on me to make it even."

Scarlett turned around. "What?"

"Wade got ninety dollar sneakers and two pairs of thirty dollar jeans. Well, twenty-nine dollars, but I rounded up. So that equals sixty plus ninety which is well over one hundred, and I only got one shirt, which was only seventeen dollars and fifty cents."

Good Lord, this child was definitely hers.

"Ella Lorena, this was Wade's day to go shopping, not yours. And you didn't need that shirt as it was. Wade Hampton? Coming?"

"Yes ma'am," he shoved his phone back into his jeans pocket and hurried to her side as they got on the escalator.

"Where else do you want to look before we get your hair cut?"

He shrugged. It had been like pulling teeth to get him to do this much shopping, and she was yet to address the dress shirts and jackets that she had planned to. That might have to wait until another day, she thought, with a glance at her watch. 2:45 already.

Shit! She had to be somewhere at six. She got off the escalator and stopped at the door to the Salon. She realized why: She was meeting Rhett at six. The recognition of this thought by no means eradicated the feeling of panic.

"Come on, come on," she held the door open and shooed them in. "Go on, Wade. Put the phone away, please. Ella, put that receipt back in my purse, please."

They both fairly collapsed into the chairs in the lobby while she went up to the desk to check in. "Scarlett O'Hara," she addressed the receptionist, "I called earlier. Just a child's haircut, if Cathleen has an opening in the next hour or so."

"She can take one now," the receptionist said. "Just go on back."

"Thanks," Scarlett replied brusquely, praising all that was holy that Cathleen wasn't too terribly busy. "Come on, children. Cathleen can take Wade right now."

"What about me?" Ella protested.

"You're letting your hair grow, remember? Just yesterday you were whining about it not fitting into a ponytail."

"Yeah, but I like her hair!" Ella pointed to one of the stylists. Scarlett appraised her. About twenty-two and with a charming little Dutch-bob.

"No ma'am, Ella Lorena."

Cathleen Calvert-Hilton was sitting at her station, texting away while chomping on a piece of spearmint scented gum. Bleach-blond haired and overweight, Cathleen was Scarlett's own age, but looked about forty. She had been married right out of high school to a deadbeat Yankee named Hilton and divorced six years later. Of course, she had been stuck raising four kids alone, only two of whom were actually hers. She smoked like a chimney and drank like a fish, and would have been on food stamps had she not managed to put herself through cosmetology school. And to think, Scarlett always thought with an involuntary shudder, Cathleen was the prettiest girl in our class at Fayetteville, the pampered daughter of one the nicest families in the County. By rights, she, Scarlett, should have been at the station right next to her; or worse, still waiting tables. Forget Wade and Ella's private school, her lovely cars and house and clothes. The life she led had been made possible by Rhett, and Frank before him. And if she hadn't have possessed the will and demeanor to thrive even in the worst of circumstances, she could very well have been in the same boat as poor Cathleen, broke _and_ divorced.

She had to hand it to her, though; Cathleen never seemed unhappy, and she was nothing but happy to see Scarlett and the children every time they came in, which was fairly regularly. Scarlett was glad to give her old friend the business, although she seldom required much attention to her own hair, save for trimming the split ends.

"You've been conditioning. Good girl!" Cathleen winked. "Well, I was just tickled when Jill told me that I had Wade Hampton this afternoon. Sit down, sweetie. My God, you've gotten so big! Jeez. Remember, Scarlett, when he was just the cutest little baby who toddled around my house and asked my Dad for some "buzzghetti"?"

Wade looked mortified to be associated with a cute little baby who called spaghetti "buzzghetti", but he put on a small smile. Ella roared with laughter, and received a big hug from Cathleen.

"Buzzghetti! Buzzghetti!" She repeated aloud, earning a glare from her brother.

"Ella, go sit down, please," Scarlett rolled her eyes. "Now, go. Thank you."

Cathleen winked. "Frank Kennedy. Isn't it uncanny how she's him all over? Well, not in looks, I mean. No, she's totally adorable …but the mannerisms are all there."

Scarlett shuddered and muttered. "Don't remind me."

"So Wade Hampton, what are we doing?" Cathleen ran her fingers through Wade's thick curly hair and he, in turn, looked up at his mother for guidance.

"He has a school dance on Thursday," Scarlett explained. "I was thinking of something that would make him look a little older. You know, more mature."

"Hmm," Cathleen continued her study. "His hair is so thick. Look at those curls. I hate to cut them. Did you bring a picture?"

Scarlett shook her head. "I was just thinking something sort of long on top and short on bottom. Something trendy, you know?"

Cathleen pretended to whisper to Wade. "Your mother wants you to look like Justin Bieber. C'mon, Scarlett, he doesn't want that."

"I thought all the girls loved Justin Bieber!" Scarlett protested at Wade's look of wide-eyed horror. To him, to emulate the hairstyle of Justin Bieber was much, much worse than saying "buzzghetti" as a child.

"His hair's way too curly for that," Cathleen explained, "See? He'd be bathing in product to get the bangs straight and by the time he did that, they wouldn't even be swoopy. I just saved you, Wade honey. You can thank me later. How 'bout a nice crew cut like Beau Wilkes has?"

Scarlett shook her head. "Nope. He needs something different. Just something, I don't know - modern." Like Rhett's, she thought to herself.

She pulled out her phone and muttered aloud, "Wade, the things I do for you…"

She found the contact labeled RKB and typed a brief, to-the-point message. Hopefully he wouldn't read too much into it …

_Would u send me a pic of ur haircut 4 Wade?_

Hopefully he wasn't right in the middle of buying a racetrack or whatever else he had his grubby little hands in today.

His answer came almost immediately: _Is this Wade's idea? He might not want to look like an old man._

He was fishing for a complement. She'd be damned if she gave him one.

_He's going 4 more mature._

Cathleen was asking Wade, "So, how many girlfriends do you have?"

Wade shrugged, unsure of whether or not crushes counted as girlfriends. Ella piped up from her chair, "Zero!"

"Aww, that's okay. You'll be fighting them off in a couple years," Cathleen said cheerfully.

Scarlett drummed her nails on her phone, hoping that Rhett wouldn't keep them waiting too much longer. How hard was it for him to snap a damn picture?

Finally, he sent one. He probably had taken a slew of them, Scarlett thought, secretly pleased that he clearly cared enough to send a good one.

Oh, Holy Shit.

He had sent one of him, alright. With Anne Hampton. In front of a Christmas tree.

Angrily, she typed: _A recent one, plz._

Oh, he was the most horrid man. She hated him. Hated him.

Finally. He must have taken one that very moment, if she could tell anything from the wicked smirk on his face. He knew that he had gotten to her. But it did show off his haircut - trimmed sides with thick, wavy hair in the middle, suave and sober. The King of Cool. His trimmed mustache made him look his forty-eight years, but she had always liked it, thinking it something as much a part of Rhett as his eyes or his nose.

"Here," she jerked the phone in Cathleen's direction, sick of looking at his smug face. "Something like this."

"Oh, hell-o!" Cathleen took the phone eagerly. "Yeah, this is good. Just a razor cut, keeping the thickness. This'll be good for Wade. Nice work, Scarlett. He looks …really good."

"Don't remind me," she plopped down in the chair at the empty station next to Cathleen's.

"Okay, big guy," Cathleen said to Wade, "Go over to Miss Janice in the washroom and tell her to give you a good shampoo. Your mama and I need to catch up."

Wade nodded and went off, leaving Cathleen free to clap her hands excitedly and shake Scarlett by the shoulders. "Okay, what is happening, lovely? You haven't hardly exchanged a civil word with him since the big D and now he's texting you pics of himself. What gives?"

"Well," Scarlett smiled sweetly, "he _is_ staying at my house this week."

"Oh-my-god!" Cathleen squealed. "In the same bed?"

"No. The guestroom."

"But still, it's a start. I mean, you're happy about this, right? You always wanted him to give it another go, right?"

She did want him back. But she'd never admit it - especially to Cathleen, who would go blabby about it to each and every one of their friends back home. They didn't need to know that independent, self-sufficient Scarlett O'Hara was still pining for the man who had divorced her.

"Of course not."

"Oh …so that's a no?"

"Definitely. And even if I did, which I certainly do not, he's getting married this weekend anyway, so…"

"What the hell?"

"He's getting married."

"He's getting _married_?"

"Yes. I told you this, didn't I? Didn't Ashley?"

"No and no. My God! The scumbag!…"

"Well, it wasn't completely unexpected-"

"No, I was talking about Ash. Damn him. He came in here yesterday to get his hair cut and didn't say a thing about it. Oh plenty about you. Scarlett this, Scarlett that. But I'll be damned if he said a word about your ex staying in your house."

"Well, he didn't know then. Rhett just flew in yesterday. To pick up a car, which he's driving back to Charleston."

"A car?"

Scarlett nodded. "A Lamborghini."

Cathleen whistled. "Day-um Sam. Business must be good. So, who's the bastard marrying?"

"You probably know her; she's from Charleston."

"Oh, I doubt it. My Charleston folks don't even speak to me anymore since Hilton and I divorced. Not that we were on really great terms to begin with…but out of curiosity, who is it?"

"Anne Hampton. I've only ever seen her once."

A look of concentration covered Cathleen's face, and for a minute, she almost looked like pretty young Cathleen Calvert again, pampered gossip who knew everything there was to know about anybody important.

"Anne Hampton. I do remember her. But shit - she was barely in grade school when I got married. And Rhett's _marrying_ her? Isn't he like, forty-five?"

"Forty-eight," Scarlett corrected automatically. "And I know how young she is."

"Aww, Scarlett, you're much prettier than she is, honey. Why, she looked downright wormy as a child, which was what, five years ago?" Cathleen giggled at her own cleverness. "Oh, Scarlett, you know you're gorgeous!"

"Younger will always win," Scarlett retorted, but not before piercing the mirror with a long, lingering stare, if only to ascertain that there were no wrinkles forming on her otherwise spotless complexion.

"Well, what are you gonna do about it?" Cathleen's reflection appeared behind Scarlett's and she could feel her friend's strong hands rubbing her shoulders. "You've never had trouble holding onto your men in the past. You gonna let little Miss Thing win?"

"They're getting married on Saturday, Cathy."

"But he's in your house. Your territory. Why not take advantage of it… 'cause it's clear he wants to…make the most of his stay."

"Well, we are having dinner tonight."

"Dinner? His idea or yours?"

"His."

"Where is he taking you, did he say?"

"Bacchanalia. At six."

"Ah…I haven't eaten there since my senior prom. Did you go with us? No - you didn't, you were preggo."

"Don't remind me."

"Hey Wade!" Cathleen said loudly as Wade shuffled over with a towel on his head. "Have a seat, honey." Then she whispered to Scarlett. "If you don't steal the bastard back, then you're not the Scarlett O'Hara I grew up with."

There was something else that Scarlett had been taught growing up, along with Cathleen, in Clayton County. When someone appears to have asked you out on a date, you find out for sure by running the idea by close friends and/or family members of the person who did the asking. Since Rhett had no male friends that she was aware of, and she certainly couldn't call up his mother or brother or sister to confirm the status of his relationship with Anne, she was stuck with the "wisdom" of her unlucky-in-love friend, Cathleen, and Ashley, who had been, up to the year or so previous, the man whom she had always thought she wanted. So, while Cathleen was putting the finishing touches on Wade's hair, Scarlett proceeded to text Ashley, whom she had ignored completely earlier in the morning.

_Srry, just saw ur text. At Cathleens 4 Wade haircut_

Ashley wrote back in record time, asking if he could just call. She spared him the effort and stepped outside, finding the Ashley Wilkes Cell contact and hitting the call button.

"Hey," she said, as soon as she heard him pick up.

"Hello, Scarlett. Busy day?"

"Ughh," she sighed, "you have no idea. Or maybe you do. Have you done a lot of shopping with Beau recently? I'm standing there in the dressing room waiting for Wade to let me see what he's picked out and I get nothing but a pairs of jeans thrown over the door at me. And then he forgets which pair he actually liked. Ughhhhh."

Ashley laughed. "No, I can't say that I have that problem. But then again, Beau's not particular about his appearance. I suppose he gets that from me, huh?"

She laughed politely, not really thinking it was all that funny.

He cleared his throat at the other end, "So, I gather you read my message from earlier…I was hoping that you might bring Wade and Ella over and celebrate us making Number One. We could order Chinese, watch a movie…"

She felt sick again. The morally correct thing to do would be to say: Of course Ashley, we'd be delighted. Oh God, what was that that Rhett had said all those years ago? _We're not gentlemen - and we have no honor. _It was so, so true; particularly in cases such as this -just like when he had wanted to go to Disneyworld with the kids over the summer and she hadn't wanted to go and had told him that she had too much to do and too little money. She hoped that he never found out exactly how much she had managed to squeeze out of Rhett. Maybe she could soothe her guilty conscience by giving him a more generous than usual Christmas bonus. But today was not the day to be plagued by conscience. Not when she had Rhett by the balls, inviting her to dinner. Of course, the sick feeling returned with a vengeance, Rhett _could_ cancel - then where would she be, besides depressed?

"Ashley, we can't tonight. They both have homework and I have … umm… plans."

"Plans?" he sounded perturbed.

"Yes, plans." She was almost a little irritated that he was just assume she did not. Even if they were with Rhett; who was Ashley to plan her evenings for her?

"With?"

"What?"

"I was just curious …it's not Rhett, is it?" _Oh God. Here it goes, Ashley's going to get all cryptic and weird and subliminally try to mind-fuck me into believing that Rhett is toxic. Which he is. Very much so. But I don't need Ashley to tell me that._

"Actually, it is. And he wants to talk about the children and how we're going to treat this marriage …umm… thing."

There. Not too revealing, and not at all like a date. Perfect. Never mind that Rhett might have wanted to discuss that very thing. She wouldn't think about that just then.

"Ah, I see. Well, I certainly understand that."

"But?"

"Pardon me?"

"I'm picking up on an implied _but_ …what, you don't think that I should eat with him?"

"No. No, not at all. I'm merely concerned by his intentions… you know, whether or not they're honorable." _Two of two - I'm glad I'm not the only one reading too much into this._

"Ashley, what century do you live in? It's Rhett, not some random guy I met on eHarmony!"

"I think I'd trust some _random guy_ from eHarmony over Rhett, Scarlett. You were in tears last night, my dear. Just remember that, if he tries to sweet talk you into …"

"What, Ashley?"

"You know what I mean - don't make me say it out loud."

"I'm quite sure I don't know what you mean." _Ashley, you are such a prude._

"His …" he lowered his voice. "…bed."

"Oh Ashley, we didn't have sex when we were married, why would we now that we're divorced? It's just dinner, after all." _And it was your fault we didn't have sex, not that I'm holding a grudge or anything … And it is dinner; after all, he could have asked me to lunch. Or asked for the children to come to dinner too._

"And that's what makes it absolutely opportune for him." _Even Ashley thinks so._

"What, that he's starting off his new marriage by cheating on his fiancée with his ex-wife? That makes a whole lot of sense. Not." _It makes perfect sense. _

"Just be careful, that's all I'm asking. But hey, I've just pulled up at church, so…talk to you later? Want me to text you mid-way through dinner and see how it's going?"

"I will. I promise. And I'll be fine, really. And Ashley, thank you."

"You're welcome. Goodbye, Scarlett."

With more than a little irritation, she hurriedly pressed the Call End button and walked back into the salon, where Cathleen was standing up front with Ella, whose hair she had obviously ran a flat iron through to abate any feelings of being left out and …Wade? He looked adorable, absolutely adorable.

"Scarlett!" Cathleen waved her over to the counter. "Look at your drop-dead-gorgeous son."

"You look very handsome, Wade Hampton," Scarlett said, meaning it, "and Cathleen's made you look mighty pretty too, Ella."

The children beamed, clearly pleased as punch by both their mother's attention and the results of Miss Cathleen's handiwork. Cathleen leaned close to Scarlett and pretended to adjust a stand of hair before whispering: "Don't look now, but see who's behind you."

Scarlett nodded, then unzipped her purse to pull out her wallet and glanced behind her. Oh Sweet Jesus. Belle Watling was standing right behind her, and brushed past her as soon as another receptionist said that she would take the next customer.

"Next appointment that LaShante has is Friday, Mrs. Watling."

Belle nodded, her ample breasts jiggling along with her head. Oh God, Scarlett thought as she observed her attire. And Rhett was attracted to…that? Fake bright red hair was glinting in the fluorescent lights, which hit the pink-tinted blush on her cheeks just so that you could see the wrinkles at her eyes and between the crinkles of her mouth. Her lips were clearly Botox-ed several times over, and she had on an awful shade of bright pink lipstick that totally clashed with her hair. Not to mention that her crocodile-print skirt was two sizes too tight, her combat boots were absurd - and that gigantic silver cross that strategically landed in the middle of those extra large breasts was overshadowed by the see-through blouse that that _creature_ proudly wore. Cathleen was gnawing on her nails as she and Scarlett stared, appalled.

Belle was talking on the phone. Loudly. And with her hillbilly accent.

"That'll be jes' fine," she told the receptionist. "And if I can squeeze fer a manicure tomorrow night, that'll be awesome too. I'm havin' dinner with an old friend, you see. Gotta look my best."

Scarlett was raging and Cathleen shook her head and whispered. "Surely not …"

She weighed the instinctive wisdom of her two oldest friends, Cathleen's, to believe in the fundamental good, and Ashley's, to be perpetually on the lookout for the bad. She supposed that hers lay somewhere in between. Still - she couldn't help but think that Rhett was somehow cheating on her, even if it was only the memory of her marriage, rather than her in the actuality.

"You're still gonna go, aren't you?" Cathleen squeezed her shoulder as Belle pranced out, tush shaking as she departed.

Scarlett nodded. "Damn right I am."

"Well, look at it this way," Cathleen tried again, "at least he asked you first."

_What? To marry him? To go to dinner with him? Yes, yes, and yes. And she'd be damned if she let him forget it._

Getting even was all she could think about. But she had to let it go…at least, long enough to make herself look gorgeous before tonight.


	6. Imbibed

_**Note: The long overdue Chapter 6 - (I hope that all of you who have so graciously read and reviewed haven't been kept waiting too long; and that you are "rewarded" for your patience by this, an extra-long chapter. Please, keep letting me know how you're liking it, as this progresses… Your encouragement and support really do inspire me! ) All of the characters, of course, are the intellectual property of Margaret Mitchell.**_

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><p><strong>Chapter 6:<strong>

At 5:49 p.m. (according to the computer), Scarlett made a few notes in anticipation of the inevitable moment in which she would emerge from her bedroom door, walk down the staircase, and see if Rhett was ready in actuality, or if it had all been an elaborate joke at her expense. Wade was in his room trying on all of his new purchases, Ella had informed her - a claim which Wade defended against vehemently as he breathlessly appeared behind his sister, his sweatshirt inside out.

Alright, alright, leave me alone, Scarlett remembered muttering. As if they were participants in the mad scheme; they miraculously allowed her the rest of the afternoon to prepare. She gave the list on her laptop a final glance. Shower. _Check._ Condition hair. _Double check. _Wax. _Done._ Although why she needed to wax was beyond her…an old habit, she supposed. Nails. _Thank God for Insta-Dri. _

She thought that she heard a car door and jumped up with a start. Then silence. Surely if it was Rhett, Wade and Ella and one or both of the pets would make some sort of sound to alert her. It wasn't him. Surely he wouldn't have forgotten.

He would never forget her. _What a foolish, romantic sentiment!_

He'd forgotten before. Her past was chalk full of memories that involved Rhett _not _being there, like great gaping holes spattering the bigger picture of her life.

She remembered it like it was yesterday. The miscarriage. The rush of blood and the pain. She called for Rhett. He never came. Oh God, the pain. And Bonnie's funeral. She couldn't bring herself to dwell on that. Rhett was drunk. He was present, but not really there. The divorce lawyer had said that the most traumatic events of married life are divorce and the death of one's child. Check both, Scarlett had said. Trauma, the ultimate killer.

Melly's funeral. Rhett wasn't there for that, either. Melly. Melly's death. She pulled open the bottom drawer of her vanity and pulled out a framed picture, long since relegated to a spot of perpetual darkness. She'd pulled it out once or twice and had even tried to sleep with it by her nightstand. She couldn't look at it for very long without crying. She could tell without looking at the date that it had been taken in the middle of June, on the occasion of Melly's birthday. She had been pregnant with Bonnie then, and looked none too happy about it. Melly was slender as a reed, her long brown hair tied into a thick braid down her back. She was wearing a dress of pale pink, the color of champagne. She was carrying a tray full of watercress sandwiches. Her favorites, all. And she was hugging Scarlett, resting her free hand on Scarlett's swollen belly. Very swollen - Bonnie had been born the following week. A week after Melly. And died just a few months before. She had sent Wade and Ella to stay with her sister while she went to a spa in Marietta. Everybody told her she was going to get to rest and recover, from both Bonnie's death and from the miscarriage she had never had time or permission to recover from when it first happened. Melly had wanted her to go. Melly was fine. She stood on the front porch next to Ashley with her little gingham apron, looking like Suzy Homemaker as Scarlett got into her hired Towncar. Melly waved until they rounded the curve around Ivy Street and she could no longer see her. She was sick, yes, but it was going to be fine in the end. Scarlett had arrived at the Women's Retreat around five that evening - done some yoga and light pilates before turning in for the night. She had reached for her phone to set the alarm for six a.m., only to see it lit up with twenty-two missed calls from Rhett. It was Melly, who, even as Scarlett spoke to him, was undergoing emergency surgery. The pregnancy she had been willing to die for was found to be entopic; there had been a rupture, bleeding, and finally, shock. It had killed her.

Her funeral. Rhett had not been there. He couldn't have stood it, being there.

Damn you, Rhett Butler, Scarlett cursed internally. _This_ is what you do to me.

Did she seriously see it as a loss? As a true separation? After all, he'd been absent more than he had been present during their married life. _How much of that was your fault_? _If you hadn't been so blind in your obsession with Ashley, maybe you and Rhett could have had a chance…_

The nagging voice of conscience continued to plague her …but she hadn't the time to think of it. Not now.

She heard the car pull up in the drive; this time for sure, and she took a quick, final appraisal of her appearance. Her dress was an iridescent peacock bluish-green. It was a Vera Wang, but she had found it on the half price at Kohl's and had swiped it before anyone else had the chance to notice the solitary size 6 shoved in between the 10's and 12's. That it was a size 6 might have irked her at some point; she had been a 4 for as long as she could remember. But sometime in the period between Melly's death and the finalization of her divorce, Scarlett had found that somehow, someday, she was newly entitled to purchase clothes that fit - regardless of the number in the tag. No one need know that she cut the tags out. They rubbed at her neck anyway.

Her feet were still sore from previous night's stilettos, so she went with the more conservative option, black ballet flats. A sentimental choice, perhaps, born out of the old habit of wearing flats because Rhett preferred her in flats. She always had preferred heels.

She walked to the edge of the staircase and peered down over the banister, if only to catch a glimpse of him just to make certain that she was neither overdressed nor under. The foyer was empty.

It's going to be fine, she reassured herself, after all, we've severed all emotional bonds. _Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. Don't give a damn, don't give a damn._

She rolled her eyes and said loudly. "Well, I don't give a damn, _either_!"

Scarlett grabbed hold of the handrail and walked through the foyer and across the hallway to kitchen, where she presumed Wade and Ella would be, picking out what they wanted for dinner before she left …

A loud giggle emitted from the great room, then an even louder shriek, and Scarlett followed the sound, expecting to find either Wade or Ella or one of the animals to be into some sort of mess which she would then be obligated to extricate them from, and naturally culminating in the ruination of her outfit. Rhett, in the meantime, would probably leave, and she'd be stuck going over to Ashley's and eating cheap, MSG-infused Chinese … or perhaps not…

Rhett was leaning over the sofa, and the top of Ella's gingery head was peeking out over the top of it and Wade was seated next to her, completely overcome by giggles.

"Get that off," Rhett was saying in a hushed whisper. "Just turn the damned thing off."

"It froze-" Ella was protesting.

"Of course it did," Wade said, then burst out laughing again.

"Did I miss something?" Scarlett asked, raising an eyebrow. Rhett looked completely and utterly guilty.

"Ella wanted to show me something."

"Justin Bieber," Ella informed her, turning around and facing Scarlett. "I was showing Uncle Rhett the inspiration behind Wade's haircut."

"And I _told_ her that I do not look like Justin Bieber!" Wade protested.

"So I showed him," Ella went on.

"And she Google-searched it," Rhett cut in. "And she got some _interesting _results."

"Yeah, she clicked on 'Justin Bieber girlfriend'," Wade smirked.

"And it sort of went on to 'Justin Bieber girlfriend pregnant'," Ella said, "and Uncle Rhett told me to just click on it."

"As in, _just click on it_. To show me what she needed to so that we could …" Rhett looked sheepish. "And that led to all sorts of images."

"And my laptop froze," Ella grinned. "Oops."

Scarlett rolled her eyes. "Thank you, Rhett. As always, you're a wonderful role model for the children."

She thought that he wanted to shoot back with a smart-ass retort, but he had none at the moment. He was not shy about undressing her with his eyes, and she could sense his approval. He liked her in "hot-mom" clothes …clothes that looked her age. Not that she did look her age. Again she stole a glance at the nearest mirror. Definitely still would be carded. _Please God, let someone card me tonight!_

"Well?" she addressed the children, "Will you two be okay for a couple hours if Uncle Rhett and I go out for a drink and dinner?"

Wade nodded. "I'm very responsible."

"Nice try," Scarlett corrected him. "Prissy's on her way."

"Prissy? Why? Mother, I'm so close to thirteen now!"

"I know you are, Wade Hampton - don't remind me." She kissed his cheek and ran a hand through his hair. She wondered if Rhett had noticed his new haircut. Surely he had. She hoped that he'd told him how handsome he looked. One complement from Rhett would have been worth ten of hers. "But Prissy is going to come by just in case you need anything. And you've got all the emergency numbers where?"

Wade rolled his eyes, then looked at Ella, and both of them said in unison: "On the whiteboard. Yours is 770-872-0029 and Uncle Rhett's is 770-282-"

"Wrong," Rhett interrupted, smirking that annoying sardonic smirk of his. "I don't have an Atlanta number anymore, remember?"

Both children looked as though they'd been hit.

"Why did you change your number, Uncle Rhett?" Ella asked, the look on her face truly forlorn.

"Well," he ran a hand through his own thick head of hair. "I don't live in Atlanta anymore, for starters. And when I got my new iPhone I had the option of changing it …so…" his voice trailed off lamely and he looked over at Scarlett, as if he expected her to say something to alleviate the awkwardness.

She would be damned if she bailed him out.

"You guys have your phones on you?" Rhett said, his tone filled with fake pleasantness, "I need to give you the new one anyway and we can just -"

"No thanks," Wade interrupted, "we don't need it now. Come on, Ella. Let's go upstairs."

Ella nodded and hugged Scarlett tightly. "Be careful, Mother."

Scarlett's heart melted in spite of herself. "I won't be gone long, baby."

"Promise? And can we watch a movie when you get home?"

Scarlett nodded. "If it's not too late. School tomorrow, remember? Both of you have homework."

Wade shook his head. "I finished my algebra."

"Well, help Ella with hers. She has like six workbook pages full of word problems."

"Yes ma'am."

"Love you both." Scarlett said, then turned to face Rhett. He had said nothing? Nothing at all? "Ready?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Whenever you are. Bye guys."

They waved wordlessly, and filed up the stairs and into their respective rooms as Scarlett retrieved her leather jacket from the closet.

"Ready?" she said as she met him at the door. She looked up into his eyes, hoping to gain some insight into his mood. They were large and melancholy. Not the eyes of a happy man about to be married, if she did say so herself.

He nodded and held the door open for her. "Do we need to wait for Prissy?"

"Nah. She'll be here fifteen minutes late. And even if she gets held up, I've been letting Wade stay home alone a little bit, lately."

"Really?" The tone of disapproval.

"Well, he _is_ almost thirteen. He needs to have some responsibility." There she was defending herself; as though she was still answerable to him.

"I …agree."

"Really?" She was shocked.

"Really." He shut the door behind him and aimed his fancy key fob at the Lamborghini. "You've blocked me, Scarlett."

"What?"

"Your car."

"You just got here," she said stupidly, then realized that he had pulled to the front of their circular drive, behind her car. Prissy had just pulled in behind him. She could hear the music blaring from the stinking clunker of a vehicle.

"Hey Miz Scarlett!" Prissy waved. "Wade and Ella ready to chill?"

Scarlett shrugged. God's nightgown, that girl was a stupid creature. "I'm not sure how much _chillin' _they're ready for, but they're inside. They're supposed to be doing homework, if you wouldn't mind checking up on them from time to time. Oh and Prissy, if you want to watch TV, just hit the power button one time. When you hit the _all on _button, it will turn off the cable and I have to reset it manually, okay?"

Dull comprehension seemed to appear somewhere in the girl's deep set eyes. Lord, she was dumber than a rock. If only Dilcey, her Pa's old secretary, hadn't called crying that her Prissy had flunked out of community college and needed a job, she would have never in a million years hired her at Kennedy's. But there was no cheaper babysitter in all of Atlanta, and Scarlett was all about saving a few bucks …

"Hey there, Mist' Rhett!" Prissy had clearly just noticed Rhett.

"How are you, Prissy?" Rhett responded, looking put out.

"Ah's fine, suh. See you later, Miz Scarlett!"

And in she went. No doubt to eat Scarlett's popcorn and vegetate in front of her 52 inch television.

"I'll drive," Scarlett said, annoyed. "Where are we going again?"

"Bacchanalia?" Rhett replied. "Just like old times."

Old times. As if old times were good times.

"Fine," Scarlett said, pulling her keys out of her clutch and unlocking the door. "I'm quite sorry that I won't get to take a spin in your new car."

"Well, we can always -"

"No, it's fine."

"There's tomorrow, too."

"It doesn't matter, Rhett." She fastened her seatbelt and he did the same.

"I always liked this car," he said.

"Uh-huh," she put the key in the ignition and turned it. The radio was blasting at an ungodly volume. _Oh Holy Shit!_

She hurriedly turned it down. "Sorry. We were coming home from the mall and having a small dance party while they were on a Sonic high."

Rhett laughed. "What is this you're listening to?" He reached out and turned the volume up slightly.

_Now we're standing in the rain ~ And nothing's ever gonna change ~ Until you hear, my dear ~ the seven things I hate about you, the seven things I hate about you, ooooh you!_

"Miley Cyrus? Really? Isn't she like, so last year?" he laughed as he pressed the off button.

"I do have an eight-year-old, if you'll recall."

"Yeah, but still …"

"Ella likes her. And you know what, _I _like her, okay?"

"What about poor Wade?"

Scarlett laughed. "_Poor _Wade. Ha. He gets to choose the next time. And with him its all the depressing emo kid music, which makes me want to kill myself. Seriously, I had to _hide_ that My Chemical Romance cd. You can only hear about the Black Parade so many times before your eardrums just give out entirely."

"I guess it's payback, huh? For your own hellacious taste in music as a teenager?"

"Hellacious? At least we had taste in the nineties." Take that, Rhett Butler.

"Ah, the nineties. Let me refresh my memory …when Leonardo DiCaprio was the molten ball of light around which the solar system turned."

"Yuck."

"Really, yuck?"

"Yuck."

"Who was your teenidol then? Now I'm really curious."

"I don't know. There were several."

"I'm not talking about Fayetteville Prep, Scarlett. Those crazy twins, I recall well. The illustrious quarterback, Tony Fontaine, now a resident of the Fulton County maximum security prison."

"Poor Tony; don't remind me."

"Rafe Calvert, on welfare."

"Stop."

"Ashley Wilkes. Gainfully employed."

"Stop it, stop!"

He looked momentarily repentant. But not overmuch. "What else about the nineties? …Ah, I remember something. Though on the surface, they are the exact same thing in every conceivable way, whether you liked The Backstreet Boys or N*Sync said more about your character than all of the terrible macaroni art you could ever make for your child psychologist."

She laughed in spite of herself. "I was trying to explain this to Ella yesterday. No really, I was. There's nothing like it today, nothing at all. Of course, there wouldn't have been an N*Sync without Justin."

Rhett laughed. "You even liked him with his terrible, icy-blond mini-fro? Typical. Yes, I suppose that liking the Backstreet Boys gave you a bit more of a cultured palate, as there was no clear Diana in those Supremes."

She was laughing in earnest now. "You know, I went to both of their concerts. It was quite the scandal back then. Sue was madly in love with Nick Carter and it was her birthday, but I made Pa drive me to Atlanta the next week to see N*Sync …"

"Was that before or after I met you?"

"Before. I had a driver's license by the time I met you."

He shuddered. "Don't remind me. I thought you were of age. At least Charles Hamilton made the same mistake I did."

"Oh, he knew." _How odd for him to bring up Charlie._

"And he still did it?"

"What? It was a mistake. One gigantic mistake."

"Would you take it back if you could?"

She turned her eyes away from the road for a split second and looked hard at Rhett. He was dead serious.

"Would I take it back?"

"If you had the chance to fix that one mistake, would you?"

She thought for several minutes. No Charlie would have meant no Wade. No Wade? And she would have never have gotten to know Melly as anything other than Ashley's wife …or did he mean… surely he didn't mean…?

"Would you change something?" she asked. "If you could change one thing …?"

"Slow down, Scarlett, we're getting close," he indicated that she should merge into the right lane. "Hmm, change…what would I change..? I'm not sure. Several things, I imagine. I've made many mistakes in my life, Scarlett. After all, as you're so fond of reminding me - I'm an old man." _With a penchant for marrying much younger women._ "There, over there, see? On the corner?"

"This is the prix fixe place, right?" Scarlett asked as she turned into the parking lot. "With the killer mushroom risotto?"

"I thought you'd remember the mushroom risotto, seeing as you ordered an additional three servings of it the last time we dined here."

"Rhett?" She pulled into a parking space. "This is where you took me the night you proposed. The night after Frank's funeral." _Less than a week before you're getting married to someone else. _"Why here? Why now?"

He heaved a sigh. "Because I needed to see you. You know, really see you. Talk to you. Make sure that you would be alright. And you've - as much as it pains me to admit this - you're doing fine. You've changed, Scarlett. I've never seen Wade and Ella so happy, even when I lived there. And you look good. Happy. And I'm glad."

"That's …it?" She hoped the irritation in her voice wasn't too obvious. "Are you? Happy, I mean?"

He gave her a small smile. "I am content."

"Happier than …with me?"

Again, the sigh. "How do I explain this delicately? Living with you was like living in the blazing sunlight 24/7. Fast-paced. Hot. And I got caught up in it and in you and eventually, I got sun poisoning."

"Thanks."

"No, no, I know that I was no picnic either. And I know that we were at cross purposes ninety percent of our married life. I understand that, Scarlett. But I'm content now, with the way things are. And I would like very much for us to be friends."

"Friends." She felt like she couldn't breathe.

"I mean, I don't expect us to be throwing barbeques for one another anytime soon. It's going to take time. But Wade and Ella -"

"They don't need you. And once Anne has children …"

"That won't be any time soon."

"What do you mean? I'm sure that you'll want more-"

"She doesn't want children. And I don't either, come to think of it. Bonnie was …well, Bonnie was the best of me. And it would seem a betrayal of the highest order to even think of sharing that with someone else. Bonnie was completely ours, you know? The best part of both of us."

"I know."

"Anne understands that, better than any woman I've ever met. She's willing to put off having children for my sake."

"How nice."

"I think so. She's a remarkable woman."

"Ashley thinks she looks like Melly."

"If that's your subtle way of asking me if you're the hotter one, the answer is no." _God damn him!_

"Don't be ridiculous."

"You're a vain little bitch, Scarlett," he laughed heartily, and put a large hand to her face, which she brushed away. "You always have been, honey."

"You're a bastard."

"I'm sorry. So …do you just want to say hell with dinner? Since we've pretty much covered all of the heavier topics of the evening already - I'd say we can just get shitfaced, eh?"

"Is that what you and Anne do, get shitfaced?"

"Not in the least. She doesn't drink."

"Good luck with that." _They won't last a year._

"Let's go to your place."

"What, home?"

"No. Kennedy's. You still have live music Sunday nights?"

She nodded. "I forget who it is. It'll only be a two-piece."

"That's fine. Let's go."

"But your reservation?"

He shrugged. "Not important."

She put the car in reverse and wordlessly backed out of the space and turned back out onto the highway. So much for prix fixe. At least Ashley wouldn't be working tonight. She couldn't handle anything else.

Rhett was looking out the window. His hair was a little grayer at the temples, but he was largely unchanged since the last time she had seen him. He had undone his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his white shirt, which stood out against his tanned face and chest. She wondered if there was an inch of his body that wasn't sun bronzed - probably not!

They pulled into the reserved space at Kennedy's and entered through the side office door. She looked at him for signs that he was impressed with her work, how busy the place was and how happy the patrons were, clearly. It wasn't that Kennedy's was all that special. The floor plan was conventional, center-hall, with shuttered windows painted green against the whitewashed brick. Frank had wanted it to have that "old-house" feel when he had bought it, and Scarlett had silently protested that it was not to her taste (nor to anyone else's, for that matter); but when he had passed, she had done a complete overhaul with the help of Rhett's money. He had called it one of his better investments. She had been a poorer one.

"Hey Scarlett!" Hugh Elsing greeted her enthusiastically as they emerged from her office. "And Rhett ..? How's life treatin' you, man?"

Rhett shook Hugh's hand. "Just fine. So, I understand you're number one in Atlanta?"

"Yes sir. Miss Scarlett's really done a number on this place," Hugh gave her a little pat on the shoulder. "Mighty good woman, here."

"I had some help," Scarlett conceded, then said quickly, "Hugh, is the music still going on?"

"I think so. They're almost done for the night though. It's almost nine, you know."

"No, I didn't." Scarlett looked down at her watch. "I guess I just lost track of time…"

"That'll happen," Hugh nodded. "Well, have fun. Scuse me. Rhett, great to see you back in town, man."

"Hugh," Rhett nodded.

They walked through the restaurant and into the darkened music room, and Scarlett led him to the bar.

"No table?" he asked.

"I don't want to take up a table, no."

"But…you own it."

"Exactly. Let someone else have it."

He laughed and took a seat at the bar after he had helped her up to her seat. "Shot of Jamison," he addressed the bartender, shouting to make himself heard over the loud music. "Make it a double. Two of them."

"I don't drink whiskey anymore," Scarlett chided.

"Oh well. It's an occasion."

She shrugged and clinked glasses with him.

"Here's to you," he said.

"Cheers," she replied, then downed her shot. Bitter, hot liquid near scalded her throat.

"Another," Rhett was already summoning the bartender. "This time, let's drink to me…"

Seven shots and an hour and a half later, they were in the car, headed back to Peachtree Street, windows down and Rhett's iPhone blaring out the music of his choice.

"I don't …" Scarlett could feel herself fumbling for words. Surely she hadn't had _that_ much to drink. "I don't get this song."

"What don't you get, my dear?" Rhett was slurring too. Clearly he hadn't been drinking his normal quota since he'd been with Anne.

"She walks these hills in a long black veil - what is she, a nun?"

"Listen - Listen to the words," Rhett fumbled for the repeat button.

"I don't want to hear it again, just tell me."

"It's about a man who has been sentenced to death for a crime he did not commit."

"Where does the long black veil come in?"

"Well, he's been sleeping around, you see. With his best friend's wife. And he was sleeping around with her when this murder happened. But he's not going to reveal her. Even though it would save his life to do so."

"And what does she do? His girlfriend?"

"She says nothing. See, Scarlett, you don't listen to a damn thing. Except -" he heaved a tragic sounding sigh, "for Miley Cyrus."

"What's the point? Why are you listening to such a depressing song?"

"Because it's pure. It's honest. It's a song about love. Or love as I understand love."

"What, that love gets you killed?"

"No, it's about faithfulness. And it's about limitations. The paradox of love."

"True love should be without limits."

"Only Miley and Justin think so. No, these people in the song did the best they could do. Just like you or me or anyone else would do in the same situation. They're broken and they're weak and they're …flawed."

She pulled into the driveway. "Home. Wow. That seemed like a long drive."

"Did it? I didn't notice."

She laughed. "You're drunk, Rhett Butler."

He shook his head. "You think so?"

"So, who does that song we were just listening to?"

"That was Bruce Springsteen and the Seeger Sessions Band."

"Dating yourself much?"

"Classics never age, my dear."

"Yourself included?"

"Care to test me?"

"No thanks." She got out of the car and shut the door. He was standing next to her, hands on both of her shoulders. She leaned back against the car door.

"Is that your final answer?" he said, lingering on each syllable as he bent down to her ear and whispered. "Prissy's gone. She must have given up on us. No lights on in the house…"

"Is that really what you're thinking about right now?" she looked up into his glassy, alcohol-boggled eyes. She probably looked no better.

"Don't tell me you're not thinking the same thing."

She shrugged and brushed against his hard body.

"I'll tell you what I'm thinking, Scarlett O'Hara. I'm thinking that the children are asleep and no one is around to watch me kiss you."

Then, Rhett's lips were on hers, and she couldn't have spoken even if she wanted to.

She didn't want to.


	7. Cornered

_**Note: I can't believe that we're here already, to Chapter 7...I am so, so psyched by all the positivity you guys have flooded my way. Seriously, I know it's different from most of the stories in this fandom, and that it's not to the taste of many - but yet, you are giving it a chance and giving it your time. So, I hope that I will continue to live up to the aforementioned praise. If you have a second, or two, please drop a review by…if only to tell me how I did. Like it, love it, hate it…I want to hear from YOU! Now, without further adieu, Chapter 7- All of the characters, of course, are the intellectual property of Margaret Mitchell, the songs/song lyrics belong to their respective artists - basically, none of this belongs to me except for the writing. =)**_

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><p>Scarlett woke at what seemed to be six thirty in the morning to find the television in her room on, MSNBC. How odd, she thought to herself - she didn't even know that she had MSNBC. <em>Holy Shit! Rhett likes MSNBC! <em>She sat up with a start, thinking with a sudden stab of horror that he had spent the night in her bedroom. She vaguely remembered something about a kiss, drunkenly stumbling into the foyer and …eating grapes? It was all blending together, but she felt like she wanted to write it down, lest she forget that it had happened at all. Happened? What the hell?

She looked down at her attire, fully expecting to be attired in last night's dress - or without last night's dress. She was wearing her pajamas. Not even a nightie. Purple fleece pants and top, long-sleeved. She'd been tucked into bed, too. All the pillows were immaculate on the right side of the bed and the covers had been pulled up and folded over. Rhett.

She hesitantly pulled back the covers and stood up, wondering and wishing and praying that he hadn't left…or even better, that nothing had happened at all. Why did she have so much to drink? Whatever had possessed her?

She retreated down the stairs and to the living room, recalling at once that it was Monday and a work and school day. She needed to wake the children, but she needed to find Rhett first and… make sure.

The dining room table had been set for four with the Spode china that she rarely used anymore. Surely her housekeeper would have known better than to pull it out from the cabinet when she knew perfectly well that Scarlett kept plates in the kitchen for everyday use.

She walked into the kitchen with a growing sense of trepidation, preparing her speech to the children when she told them that Rhett was gone and it was completely her fault, as always. "Why, Mother?", they might ask - "Because Mother and Uncle Rhett can't keep their hands to themselves!" she mumbled to herself. She stopped for a second in the small hallway between the kitchen and the dining room and looked into the china cabinet. There was one small picture set in front of the plates, visible through the glass but partially hidden by the frame of the cabinet door. She opened the door and pulled it out with a shaky hand. It was Wade and Ella and Bonnie on the occasion of Christmas, Bonnie's last. They had tried for a festive effect by covering Jack the Saint Bernard's head with bows. Scarlett remembered that Christmas. She and Rhett had not exchanged presents that Christmas. Bonnie was wearing her new blue velvet dress Scarlett had bought for her birthday - it had been twenty degrees outside, but Bonnie had proclaimed that she would wear the short-sleeved new "big girl dress" with no coat, because, in her words, "Princesses don't wear coats". And there she was, in between Wade and Ella in their sweat pants and warm jackets, a white bow perched atop her black ringlets. Like a little beauty queen. Rhett would have had her signed up for beauty pageants had he not already made up in his mind that she was the unequivocal winner of any contest among children her age.

She put the picture back in the china cabinet and shut the door.

She walked to the kitchen and almost screamed when she saw that there was a man already there - a burglar! No, damn it all, it was Rhett. Or at least, his backside. She lingered in the archway, her eyes lingering just a little too long on his tight, toned ass and narrow hips. He'd been out running, obviously - she was fairly confident that he wouldn't be wearing pants that had approximately the same coverage as a pair of her leggings for any other reason. He'd paired it with an oversized sweatshirt that she could recognize even from the back. It was blue and said CHARLESTON CREW in grey letters outlined with white. Clearly he wasn't confident enough to wear a tight-fitted shirt. Yet. He _was_ middle-aged, after all, and still hadn't managed to shed all that extra weight he'd put on around his gut. But he was…hot. And in her kitchen. Cooking.

He turned around suddenly, and she found herself looking straight into his face. She gulped. She'd been caught checking out his ass. _Shit!_

His black eyes stared her down. "Good morning, Scarlett."

"I'm surprised you're still here," she blurted out, not thinking carefully as she did.

His eyebrows raised in surprise, "Really? What did you expect?"

She shrugged. "A note explaining that you were very sorry for your conduct last night, but that you had urgent business back in Charleston and that it was good to see me and -" She realized that he was standing right in front of her, and then, his hands were on her shoulders.

"And why - why would I need to leave such a note, _my dear_?"

She shook her head, "Last night …you…"

She looked up into his eyes and saw only a faint reflection of her own face within them. He didn't remember kissing her or …anything!

"Rhett, you do remember going out with me last night, don't you?"

"I remember one shot too many if that's what you mean. And I'm fairly certain that the last one was a double." She could feel the heat that was radiating off of his body. Or was that hers?

"What the hell?" he had released the hold on her shoulders and walked back to the stove, where he had something sizzling in the frying pan.

"What are you trying to make?" Scarlett asked.

"Well, my intention was to have French toast ready for Wade. That's still his favorite, isn't it? Or is he too grown up for homemade breakfast?"

Scarlett smiled. "No, it's still his favorite. Of course, two pieces aren't going to be enough. He's like a bottomless pit. And he doesn't gain a pound, it seems."

"Yeah, I noticed the moment I walked in that he had grown a half a foot since I was here last."

"Eighth grade boys tend to do that. You should see Beau, Rhett, he's going to be taller than Ashley."

"Wonder where he gets his height from?"

"Ashley's father was tall …"

"Really? Oh, no, I didn't mean Beau. I meant Wade."

"Oh."

"I didn't remember Charles being very tall. Or your father. No offense."

She shrugged, her heart swelling with emotion at the memory of her tiny father with the big voice and even bigger personality. "Charlie wasn't short. But you're forgetting his other side. My mother was a good deal taller than Pa was."

Rhett laughed. "Ah yes, I forgot. The elusive Robillards. I never seem to remember that you're related."

"Well, I know we're not as well known as the Charleston folks, the Butlers or the _Hamptons_." She put an extra emphasis on the offensive surname.

Rhett returned his attention to the skillet. "My mother said to tell you hello, by the way."

"She emailed me a few months ago …I've been meaning to say something but I've been busy."

"Uh-huh."

"No really, I have been."

"It's fine, Scarlett. Mother understands."

"Well, I love your mother - I really do."

"I know. The feeling is reciprocated, I think."

She cleared her throat and asked, if only out of a sense of obligation, "How's Rosemary? And Julian and …" _Shit! What was Rhett's brother's wife's name?_

"Becky?"

"That's right. Becky."

"All fine. Rosemary is fat and single and wants to adopt a daughter from China."

Scarlett felt triumphant for no other reason than that Rosemary was fat and she was not. Rosemary had always been mean to her, anyway.

"She's a partner at her own firm now, though. She works with Anne, actually. That's how we were reacquainted."

Of course they were. Rosemary hated her and _of course_ she'd introduce him to the first eligible teenager she could find!

"Julian still lives at the old place with Mother, doing - well - no one's really sure what he does. But he enjoys the hell out of whatever it is. And Beck's a doctor, one of the best OB-GYN's in the state, apparently. I don't visit her, in practice, you see."

She wanted to wipe the smug look off of his face with the heel of her spikiest pair of stilettos. How dare he brag about the fabulous accomplishments of his wonderful relatives and that _Anne_ when she, Scarlett, didn't have a college degree to her name? The fact that she didn't bother her, per se. Her strengths rested outside of academia. That's right - she had lots of things that they didn't. The ability to attract men, for instance. A tiny waist. A blemish free complexion. Children of her own womb.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?"

He laughed. "Well, they will be when I tell them that you own the number one bar in Atlanta."

"The number one _bar_- why don't you just tell them that I'm a stripper for God's sake?"

"I'm kidding."

"Not funny, Rhett."

"Sorry."

"You're the farthest thing in the world from _sorry_."

"You know, Scarlett, you're right. I should keep my snide remarks to myself and congratulate you properly."

"You think so?"

"I do. And, as soon as I finish with this culinary masterwork, as a principal shareholder of Kennedy's, I am going to email my lawyer to cut you a very hefty check to express my admiration."

"Thank you, but that's unnecessary."

"I know - but I'd like to make the gesture nonetheless."

She almost opened her mouth, thinking that she was obligated to tell him to take his money and shove it up his ass - but she wasn't quite that proud…

"How hefty?"

He laughed in earnest as he stepped back from the stove and pronounced the French toast complete.

"Enough. Here. Want some before the children eat it all?"

"No thanks."

"What? Don't trust me? Ah! I should have known that you're watching your figure."

She scoffed. "Well if you must know, I only ate Mammy's French toast, when she was alive. Anyone else's gives me a stomach ache."

"Really? Mammy never made it for me."

"She didn't cook anymore after Mother died."

"What was her secret? I mean, French toast is fairly basic."

"Cinnamon."

"Cinnamon?" He pondered. "Hmm. Good old Mammy…She always said that -"

Before he could get out what it was that Mammy always said, Scarlett's phone started to blast out _California Girls_. Rhett had clearly gotten the gist of the tune and had created his own (probably obscene) lyrics, which he hummed under his breath as Scarlett dove toward her purse. So we must have made it into the kitchen last night, she thought to herself, maybe I _do_ remember eating grapes after all…

"So, is that your universal ringtone, Scarlett, or just one you've assigned for Ashley?" Rhett inquired as he plated his French toast.

She flashed him a rude hand gesture as she picked up her phone and answered it. "Hello?"

"Good morning, my dear." It was nice to hear Ashley's voice.

Rhett brushed past her and walked halfway up the stairs before yelling loudly, "Children! Breakfast, front and center!"

Scarlett was barely paying attention to whatever Ashley was saying about a liquor distributor. She was focused on Rhett as he marched back into the kitchen and started searching the pantry for something.

"Sorry, Ashley, hold on-" she said, then put the phone down for a second and addressed Rhett, "What are you looking for?"

"Maple syrup?"

"They don't eat real maple syrup. It's Log Cabin or nothing, and it's in the fridge."

He laughed under his breath, "Just like their mother."

"Sorry, Ashley," she picked up the phone again.

"What's …going on?" he asked hesitantly. She could just imagine the creases of worry on his face.

"Rhett's making breakfast," she said, "..well…he's trying."

"Did you…umm…have a nice evening?"

"It was fine," Scarlett said unconvincingly to Ashley. _I can't remember a damn thing, but apparently it was just fine!_

"Wade!" Rhett yelled again. "Ella!"

"Should I call later?" Ashley asked.

"No, no, no. What were you just saying?"

"I was saying that I'm interviewing the guy today for the open bartender position and I asked if you wanted to be there as well."

"Umm…" she flashed a glance at Rhett, who was painstakingly pouring the orange juice in the …cut crystal glasses?

"It's fine, Ashley. I trust you."

"You don't want to at least meet him?"

"Ashley, you're the general manager, aren't you? Surely you can do one thing without me there to hold your hand!"

"Umm, yes…Well, I suppose…"

"Ashley, I'm sorry but I have to go." She practically hung up on him without waiting for him to say goodbye. God, he was incompetent sometimes!

Ella was downstairs first, looking a mess. Her white uniform shirt wasn't quite buttoned right and she had forgotten a belt. Again.

"Ella, how many demerits does your teacher have to give you before you remember to wear a belt?"

She looked down and grinned that wide, gap-toothed grin that she had inherited from Frank. "Oops. I forgot. I'll go up and get it."

"Not right now," Rhett held out a chair for her, "Breakfast first."

"Seriously? Like, we're all eating together?" Ella asked with such sincerity that Scarlett felt her chest tighten with emotion. Again. How long _had_ it been since they had all eaten together?

"Yes, Ella, we are all eating together," Scarlett said, putting her phone down and taking a seat next to her daughter. "Now where's Wade Hampton?"

"He took Jack outside," Ella informed her. "Uncle Rhett? How long are you staying?"

He exchanged a glance with Scarlett that indicated irritation. She raised an eyebrow, challenging the point. She refused to tell the children anything, for fear that they'd just be disappointed…let Rhett do something, for once.

"Well," he said, "I guess that I'll be driving out on Thursday morning."

"Back to Charleston?" Ella asked.

He nodded.

"And then there's the wedding, right, Uncle Rhett?"

He nodded again.

"Why aren't you getting ready for it, Uncle Rhett?"

He blushed. Scarlett reveled in his discomfort. It wasn't every day that Rhett Butler blushed. Way to go, Ella Lorena, she thought to herself.

"Well, you see, Ella, I've already been married once, so I don't really have much getting ready to do…"

Ella's brow furrowed in concentration. "Hmm…And is Anne getting ready?"

Again, he looked discomfited. "She's working a case."

"What does she do?"

_Oh, Ella baby, you're good!_

"She's an attorney."

"Like Uncle Henry?"

"Yes, only more high profile than Uncle Henry. She travels quite a bit."

"What do you mean high profile?" Ella sounded out the unfamiliar words.

"Famous."

"Famous?" Ella looked genuinely confused, then looked at Scarlett, "I've never heard of her, have you, Mother?" Scarlett shook her head, feeling nothing if not amused. Then Ella went on, "Mother's famous. Mother was on Channel 4 and Channel 6 last night about Kennedy's being number one in the city. Everybody in my class is gonna be so jealous. But I'm not going invite any of them to my restaurant."

"Your restaurant, huh?" Rhett said.

Ella nodded and said with complete earnestness, "Well, my name's on it, isn't it?"

Scarlett nearly lost it then. Ella was downright funny. Even if her humor was a bit off color every so often, she had some sort of innate charm that if she could only channel…

Wade walked in, Jack following obediently at his heels. He was not in uniform, wearing a blue polo and the new jeans they had purchased the day before and he looked…like Charlie. Dear God.

_The day of Ashley's party had been April 15__th__. Ashley had taken her aside, to the library, and she had it in her head that that was it - that Ashley was going to finally ask her out. All he wanted was to ask which of two ties she preferred, as the evening was an important one and he wanted to look his best. "But I thought…" she remembered saying. And then he had looked horrified and said that actually, no, he was just not that into her. He was going to marry Melanie Hamilton because she was at Wellesley and he was at Harvard and they lived four minutes away from each other and she liked the same things he did and so on and so on and so on. Scarlett vaguely remembered throwing something at him, before he retreated into the ballroom. _

_Melanie was wearing a white dress, of all things. Her hair was braided. Braided! Like a little child! And Scarlett had knocked down three champagnes as Ashley took his new fiancée into his arms and led her onto the dance floor. _

_Suddenly, she felt the husky breath of a man in her left ear "I sense that a war has started…" Rhett Butler. She was too hurt to muster up much of a reply, but she must have said something before she walked over to the corner of the room and chatted up Charles Hamilton. All that she knew about him was that he was at school at Virginia Tech, single, and loaded, but the only biographical detail that had mattered was the fact that he was Melanie's brother. All she had to do, therefore, was make him fall in love with her by the end of the night and then dash all of his hopes the next day. Melanie would hate her and Ashley would be jealous and Charles, well, he'd be fine. He was wearing jeans and a bright red polo, which was more than slightly out of place at a fancy dress party. _

_He hadn't tried to bed her - no, he had called her beautiful and amazing and declared himself in love with her - and she asked for a ride home. Then had taken him upstairs. "Have you ever done this before?" she whispered as she kissed him. He shook his head. "H-have you?" She gave him an ambiguous nod. And then…Wade had happened. _

Since when had Wade looked so much like Charlie? He was - almost grown up! His hair looked amazing; Cathleen had done quite the job. And the jeans she had picked out actually gave him a shape. Oh-my-God. _He's almost a man!_

She felt like crying.

"Out of uniform today, Wade?" Rhett asked, his voice gruff. Clearly he'd been thinking something along the same lines.

"Yes sir," Wade said, taking a seat next to Scarlett. "It's Homecoming week, so we're out of dress code all week. Today is blue and gold day, tomorrow, it's tennis shoes with our uniform, and Wednesday is Pajama day, and Thursday is Hippie and Nerd day."

"That won't be hard for you," Ella teased.

"Ella!"

"Well, it's true. He _is_ a nerd."

"You know, Ella, I saw a great bumper sticker the other day…something about needing to be nice to nerds, because you might just end up working for one," Rhett said over his coffee cup.

Ella laughed. "Were you a nerd too, Uncle Rhett?"

Rhett laughed. "I think I was more of a ...a-hem, yes, a hippie is a polite word for what I was."

"A stoner?" Wade said in between bites of French toast.

"No, well - I will admit to a bit of pot-smoking in my youth. Since you asked," Rhett winked at Scarlett, who glared at him. "Your mother was above such miscreant behavior. I was just an overall delinquent. Expelled from every private school in Charleston. What do you think of that, Wade Hampton?"

Clearly he was expecting Wade to be impressed. But Scarlett's son was just not that sort of kid, and he replied with disinterest, "That was dumb of you."

And Rhett, taken aback, said, "Yes, it was very dumb."

After a few moments of eating in silence, the children declared themselves finished and Wade was anxious to get to school. Scarlett took one last appraisal of him and gave him a small kiss on the cheek, feeling an annoying stab of pain as she watched him gather his backpack and sacked lunch. If that Alice Pecard didn't like him after today…

She whispered in his ear: "You know, you can always just make up a fake girlfriend."

His eyes widened, "You mean, lie?"

Scarlett smirked. "A fib now and then doesn't hurt…just be sparing with the details. I promise, the girls will be wondering what they're missing out on…understand?"

Wade did understand. With a final hug, she held on to him a little tighter than normal, thinking that he really was a sweet boy and she did not sufficiently appreciate him. She went next to Ella and ran the brush that she kept in her purse through the still semi-flattened reddish gold hair. Ella had her eyes. And Frank's smile. She didn't sufficiently appreciate her either. She wanted to cry.

"I'll take you guys to school today," Rhett was saying. "I bet you've never ridden in a Lamborghini have you, Wade?"

Wade shook his head, and Ella said, "What's a Lamzamgini? It sounds like a pasta."

And then, they grabbed their coats and Rhett addressed Scarlett, "Sorry to leave you with a mess."

She shrugged, thinking that Pansy, the housekeeper, would probably be there within the hour, while she would go back to bed and sleep her hangover off until ten …presumably the mess would be cleaned up by then.

"It's fine," she said.

"Are you going in to the restaurant today?" Rhett asked. She thought his tone sounded strange.

"Probably. A little later though; I have some errands to run first."

He nodded and gave her a small smile. "I'll be gone all day. I have a meeting downtown at five as well, so I'll be really late getting in. I'll come back and shower but if you're already gone…"

"Okay, Rhett."

"Okay."

And then they were gone, and she was left alone in the house, seized by the overwhelming conviction that he needed to leave, as soon as possible. Her resolve was gone, clearly. The children were going to have one big letdown the moment he left. He was going to marry Anne no matter what.

She took in a deep breath, experiencing at once a panic that she had not felt since the first time he walked out: he didn't love her. Even after kissing her and God knows what else…apparently whatever it was hadn't been that great…he was still going to choose Anne in the end.

Even though she loved him more and more…she had failed to sufficiently appreciate _him_ when she had had him, and now he was gone. And in some strange, twisted logic, his apathy hurt worse than his blind hatred.

She tried thinking back to when she had first met him, in those carefree days when both of her parents had been alive. High school dances.

The first time she had seen him after that first meeting at Ashley's party. Wade was a year old and she had moved to Atlanta to stay with Melly, if only to get out from underneath her mother's stifling, smothering presence. There had been a charity ball for the hospital that Melly was working at as a social worker, and Scarlett had gone "out" for the first time since Wade had been born. It was so awkward explaining to all of the Atlanta society folks, many of whom knew her parents, that yes, I'm eighteen, and yes, I have a one-year-old at home, and no, I'm not in college. Maybelle Pecard had been there too, still Maybelle Meriwether then. She had just finished pledging Tri Delta at UGA. Where Scarlett _should _have been. And Rhett Butler had found her in the crowd, listened to the very brief tale of Charlie and Wade and her life's end before very matter-of-factly asking her to dance. And she just felt safe, in his arms. The way he had held her, close. His strong arms wrapped around her …and now… Anne would get those arms. Legs. Ass. And she, Scarlett, was powerless to stop it.

The phone rang again, drawing her out of the spell of her melancholia. It took a second or two in her post-inebriated state to realize that it was not coming from her iPhone, but the one that was sitting forgotten on the table, identical to hers but for the case, which was black instead of pink. Rhett's phone.

She shouldn't…no, she shouldn't…She couldn't _really_ look, could she?

After all, did she really want to see text messages to and from Anne? "I love you, Rhett - Oh no, Annie, dearest, I love you more!" she mimicked aloud in a singsong voice that made her want to throw up. She wanted to relegate any lovey dovey talk between the two to the equivalent of a dime store romance novel, cheap, fake, and unbecoming out of the mouth of Rhett Butler. He didn't need that kind of talk…he was too…masculine.

Okay, maybe she would look. It was probably a business deal anyway, nothing too important. She picked up the phone, then darted her eyes back and forward across the room, just in case _he _was still lingering somewhere. She typed in the passcode without thinking; of course it was Bonnie's birthday: 0623. One missed call and one new text message. The text message was from none other than Belle Watling. Scarlett could almost imagine the dumb hillbilly whore saying it aloud: Rhtt huney im buzy 2day well ketch up ths week luv u sug, belle xo

"Slut," Scarlett muttered under her breath, although somehow, Belle Watling didn't really offend her sensibilities like Anne did. Belle was annoying, but Rhett didn't love her. In fact, she was fairly sure that they had approximately the same relationship as she had with Ashley, these days, if that. "Wonder if Anne has met _her_ yet? That would go over well with the Charleston crowd…"

Beep. Another text. Oh, she was bad…but why not…

It was a number that she didn't recognize, and one that Rhett clearly hadn't bothered to save.

Good morning! Hope you had a fantastic night out last night - you'll find a surprise outside, if you'd like to go and see about it.

"Great balls of fire - who uses perfect grammer over text messaging?" Scarlett said aloud, annoyed, then laughed, "Ashley…" But who would be texting Rhett at 7:15 in the morning? And who all had he told that he was taking her out last night - she took another look at the message- they hadn't exactly mentioned _her_. Surely he would have saved Anne's number? Wouldn't he?

Surely he wasn't stringing on _another_ woman! Anger filled her and she could feel her blood boiling. How dare he? How _dare_ he?

She marched through the house and to the front door, either oblivious to or uncaring of the fact that she was clad in purple fleece pajamas that would have been something Ella would have found fashionable. "I'll give you surprise," she said through gritted teeth as she marched up to the front door, Rhett's phone still clinched in her hand.

She threw the heavy door open with no ceremony, prepared to give Whatever-Her-Name-Was a good telling off (as if she still had the right to do so) - and then, she froze.

"Excuse me, oh my God, I've woken you up, haven't I? I'm so very sorry. Are you Scarlett O'Hara?"

"Yes, I am." She could barely get the words out.

"I'm Anne. Anne Hampton." _Oh Holy Jesus._


	8. Regrouped

_**Note: I am seriously blown away by the complements I've received - really, really, you guys that have been reading are AWESOME. And I hope that I continue to be deserving of your praise. I'd love to hear your thoughts, so if you feel like sharing, by all means hit that little review button (Also, several have noted similarities to SCARLETT; they are mainly superficial. Character names/personalities have been lifted somewhat, but the storyline is quite a different animal)- All of the characters, of course, are the intellectual property of Margaret Mitchell, the songs/song lyrics belong to their respective artists - basically, none of this belongs to me except for the writing. =)**_

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><p>Once, a long time before Scarlett had worked a week in Kennedy's (before, of course, she was Mrs. Frank Kennedy), she had fled there after being on the receiving end of one of Rhett's private little jokes delivered solely out of spite and meant to make her look like a complete and utter fool.<p>

She had not been in Atlanta since her mother's funeral, and never to Frank's new restaurant yet; but at the time, Frank had been her sister Suellen's squeeze, and the place had figured into many conversations. It was the "place to be" Suellen had said, the restaurant and bar favored by many of the business types and, surprisingly, their wives and families as well.

This had seemed a good place to start.

It seemed better than waiting for Rhett to stop laughing after he told her that he was under investigation from the Federal government and could not procure her the three million in back taxes her Pa owed. Seductive clouds of his cigar smoke mixed with her last couple spritzes of the Chanel No. 5 she had bought in high school trailed her through the highrise he was living in while under house arrest.

She had ventured further.

Kennedy's interior was almost as heinous as Charles and Melly's Aunt Pittypat's guest bathroom, with rose-patterned wallpaper and bright green carpets. Frank was a prematurely middle aged bore of about forty-five, although he looked a good deal older. On the morning she had come in, Frank was attempting to put together a particularly trying special menu for the Saint Paddy's Day dinner service, and he had found after a minute or two into their conversation that Scarlett needed a job and that she was damned clever when it came to throwing a party. And what, after all, is Saint Paddy's Day if not a party?

She had been cheerful about these two pieces of (what had seemed to Frank) insignificant developments, but little did Frank know, a business deal of sorts had been struck. And Scarlett, shell hardened by the financial crisis and her mother's death - but most especially by her complete and utter ostracism from Atlanta society, was bound and determined to take the advantage once she sniffed it out. She had agreed to help Frank out as a special consultant, as a favor to her future brother-in-law, of course - or so Frank thought. By the end of the week, she was waiting tables, and by the end of the month, she was the assistant manager. And Frank had in turn arranged a private office for her, no inconsiderable favor at a time when the upstairs part of the restaurant hadn't even been furnished yet. Not that all the attention was unwarranted - hardly. Scarlett knew what men liked; they weren't so different out of high school. And the fact of the matter was that she was everything that her sister Sue was not. The tantalizing, forbidden fruit that old Frank would have never in a million years been able to score with without paying very dearly for the privilege. Not to mention that he watched Scarlett (strategically) haul little Wade into the restaurant before her shift started and set him in a bassinet in the office which he, Frank, so graciously provided. Scarlett happened to know that Frank loved children.

_Almost_ as much as he loved the act which would inevitably create them.

When Melanie was able to work again, she took over the baby sitting and Scarlett had to change her strategy. It was vastly important that Frank feel as if her very survival depended upon his goodwill - that it _did_, in a way, did not register with Scarlett at the time - and so, without much enthusiasm for the repercussions but with a great deal in the moment, Scarlett solicited Frank for the honor of casual sex. Frank, horrified but yet intrigued, had made out with her in the kitchen of Kennedy's. (It was no accident that the kitchen was the first area of the pub that received a complete overhaul in the first of three major renovations under her ownership.) The inevitable moment of reckoning occurred when she told Frank that she loved him (_yuck!_) and then "let slip" the fact that Suellen had been sleeping with that guy from the garage back in Clayton County, which wasn't _really_ a lie, even though said event had occurred when they were both in high school.

Frank, naturally, had been distraught, and had immediately locked himself in his office for the remainder of the day and Scarlett had to run the entire restaurant by herself while he cried like a baby. She did her job credibly - Scarlett paused in the midst of her thoughts - no, she was fucking incredible. It was Kennedy's most profitable day to date. She made sure that food was hot, the pints were cold, lazy servers were reprimanded, and finally, perhaps most beneficially to Kennedy's and most to Frank's chagrin, she insisted that yes, even the investors have to pay their tabs. And in full.

She paused as she pulled up at the restaurant, wondering how much time had passed between the time Ashley had called and Rhett had left with the children and the arrival of Miss South Carolina. It had seemed no time at all (Scarlett had a little chuckle as she replayed Anne's reaction to seeing her dress from the night before on the lampshade in the sunroom next to the half eaten bowl of grapes …_so she hadn't dreamt up eating grapes_!) but it must have been at the minimum several minutes. The image of Anne's pale, bony face was coming back to Scarlett, and she kept telling herself that she must have misremembered the moment Rhett reappeared.

He then had had the nerve, with the dress still sitting on the lampshade, to re-introduce Anne to her as "his fiancée". There was a silence. As if Scarlett had magically forgotten. "I know who she is," Scarlett heard herself say to him. Anne looked at Rhett, then at the lampshade, then back to Scarlett. She smiled. "It's okay," she said, "I feel so bad for just barging in like this." Then, he took Anne out to the hallway and she couldn't hear what they were saying. Honestly, she didn't really want to hear it. She went upstairs and stripped the pajamas and put on a clean bra and a t-shirt and the closest pair of leggings she could locate before grabbing the silver clip in which she kept her driver's license and her credit cards, and some of the cash that had been in her jacket pocket the night before. Her watch, her cell phone. Then, she'd left. Without saying a thing to Rhett or Anne. Or bothering to retrieve her dress from the lampshade…

She had ended up in the parking lot of Kennedy's without paying much to the morning traffic. She wondered aloud what the appropriate response would have been? Smile? Offer Anne tea and cookies? Or alternatively, scream? Break down? Get escorted out of her own house in handcuffs for assaulting the woman who had stolen her husband?

Nope. She just went to Kennedy's. The place where there was the most separation between herself and Rhett. The part of her life that she had managed to build up without any help from him. No, he had been no help when she had really needed him. No, none at all. He had laughed in her face and let her make a fool out of herself and let her marry Frank.

That had been one more thing she had thought about on the drive over. Her wedding night with Frank. Watching him take off his grey corduroy pants and wool shirt that was close to the same color. He undid his belt. It was brown and braided. He took his cell phone out of his pocket and put it on his desk. Just as she was preparing herself for the inevitable horror, he paused in front of the mirror, pulled out a saucer from the desk drawer, and proceeded to remove his dentures, which ended up on the saucer.

That particular detail was not something which they had discussed. Frank, as if pleased to elucidate that particular point without any apparent surprise on Scarlett's part, got into bed and carried on - she concentrated on anything but. She could shut out the feeling of his toothless mouth on hers but she could not shut out Rhett's voice as she concentrated on staring Anne down in the sunroom: _Scarlett, I believe you know Anne … My fiancée…_"

She looked at the digital clock in her car. It was exactly eight-thirty. Hugh and Ashley should be arriving soon to prep, along with the cooks. Six minutes passed before she finally decided that she had to talk to someone besides Ashley about what had just happened. She thought for a split second about calling up one of her sisters. Careen in the convent and Suellen back home. She burst out laughing. Careen might be vaguely sympathetic, but then she'd worry about Scarlett's drinking and worry about the children and promise to say rosaries for them all… Nah. Suellen, then? No, Suellen was _still_ smarting about Frank. Even after Scarlett had told her about the dentures during one of their screaming matches over Christmas. Suellen still couldn't get over it. Well, yes, her husband Will only had one leg, a result of a childhood hunting accident. Big deal. Will was awesome - hell, he was like a Southern Baptist Lance-fucking-Armstrong. Well, okay, Lance Armstrong had both legs. But Will did triathlons and biathlons and every other kind of lon. He was cute in a rugged, athletic sort of way. And he was a hell of a lot more _satisfying_ in the bedroom than Frank would have been - even though Suellen would not have talked about it for the world, Scarlett had eyes. She could see her sister's satisfied smirk as she emerged from their bedroom the last time she had been home.

Still, Suellen was out. She pulled out her phone, and found the contact for Cathleen. The one person who might understand.

Her youngest son - Scarlett could never remember if he was four or five - answered the house phone and said in his high pitched voice that Mommy would call her right back. She did, less than two minutes later. She said that Scarlett should just stay where she was and she would ask her dad to watch the kids and would be right over.

There it was again. The vortex effect that Dr. Meade had rattled on about for thirty minutes her last therapy session.

There was a silence. And she remembered sitting aside Cathleen at Ashley's party. They had a system for parties, develop the plan of action for the evening's conquest, as well as contingencies just in case the first went the wrong way.

She had seen Rhett from across the party. He'd been staring at her for the last forty minutes, which was bordering on creepy. She'd been turned off immediately by his mustache.

_That's Rhett Butler, he's from Charleston._

She saw now what she had failed to see in 2000, the year she had met Rhett Butler, and in 2006, the year she has married Rhett Butler: this was the man she loved. For a whole year after he left the first time, she had been obsessed with the moment he had walked out. She played and replayed the scene in her head, as if doing so could reveal a different ending. She had tortured herself with questions, with what-ifs. What if Bonnie had not died? What if she hadn't miscarried their second child? What if she had realized that it was Rhett and not Ashley that she loved years before Rhett stopped loving _her_?

She paused. He _had_ stopped loving her. He still cared, on some level. But not enough to save their marriage.

Some time later, Cathleen was knocking on driver's side window. She had on a light purple velour track suit and flip flops, revealing bright orange toenails. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore very little makeup.

"I came as fast as I could," she said, hugging Scarlett as she got out of the car. Scarlett knew that she was going to cry, although she didn't particularly want to do so in front of Cathleen. "Oh my God, honey, your hands are shaking. What the hell happened?"

And Scarlett responded in an incoherent ramble about Bonnie and Rhett and Anne and Ashley and she cried into Cathleen's shoulder just because she had not had someone to cry to since Mammy had passed, and her mother years before. Cathleen didn't say anything until Scarlett was done, just stroking her back gently. Finally, she responded:

"Rhett never gave you much credit for being Bonnie's mother, but you did raise her and Wade and Ella. You've taken such good care of them even through all the totally shitty times you've gone through. You liked Ashley just like I liked Brent and India liked Stewart and Dimity liked Alex, but instead of meeting somebody better you had Wade and you got sort of …stuck. And you told Rhett, the son of a bitch, you wanted somebody else that wasn't him. But he didn't care, did he? Until it came down to it, to you guys losing Bonnie and Melly dying and Ashley being free. And he just leaves? Like that? God damn the son of a bitch!"

Scarlett laughed through the tears, wiping them from her face so that she could act sensibly.

"Come on inside, Cathleen. We need a drink."

Cathleen looked down at her neon plastic watch. "Well … what the hell."

Scarlett unlocked the back door, and showed Cathleen into the office and to the bar. They sat down at the first two barstools and she continued telling the story as well as she recalled it. The dinner that never was. The drinks at Kennedy's. Long Black Veil. Kissing him. Grapes. French toast. And Anne and the dress on the lampshade.

Cathleen rested her head on her hands, and looked at Scarlett expectantly.

"So …did you _do _it?"

Scarlett shook her head.

"I have a very spotty memory after the grapes."

"But your dress?"

"I vaguely recall him…" she lowered her voice, "…making advances on the sofa."

"Oh my God."

"But I woke up in bed this morning. My own."

"Wearing?"

"Pajamas."

"Shit. So…he _undressed_ you, but left you in your PJ's?"

Scarlett blushed as a fleeting vision of herself standing atop the sofa and attempting to whisk the dress off in one graceful motion manifested itself within her mind …and then falling backwards in spectacular form and landing on the floor.

"I might have undressed myself."

"But he carried you upstairs. And probably had his way with you."

Scarlett shook her head. No matter how much of a bastard he could be, Rhett would never have taken advantage of her while she was passed out. And if he had carried her upstairs and dressed her, he would have certainly been sober enough to control himself.

"So, clearly, the wedding's off," Cathleen burst out triumphantly.

"No it isn't!" The words were out of Scarlett's mouth before she could sufficiently comprehend them.

"Well, not if you don't want it to be, of course - but - don't you love him still?"

She did love him. But she hated him.

"He doesn't love me."

"Honey. Please."

"He doesn't. He figured out a way to stop."

"Oh Scarlett, listen to yourself. He's sleeping at your house - probably _with_ you - days before he's getting married and then the jealous, slighted wife shows up..." She paused, and excitement shone in her eyes, "Scarlett, do you realize what this means? You're the _other woman_!"

"Not wife." Scarlett corrected automatically. "She's not his wife, yet."

Cathleen threw up her hands in mock defeat. "I rest my case. So how 'bout that drink, sweetie?"

Scarlett stood up. "Good idea."

The satellite radio was playing softly overhead. "Long Black Veil." Lord, would she never escape him?

"We're short a bartender, so I'll have to do …"

"Well, unless you'd be hirin' me, then."

Sweet Jesus. It sounded like her Pa's voice…Surely to God she wasn't _that_ hung over!

She turned around, and was shocked to see a man standing there. Middling height, shoulder length sandy brown hair, snapping dark eyes, toned physique. Irish brogue?

"I'm sorry, but we're not open yet- wait a second - how did you get in here?"

"I assume that 'tis Mrs. Butler you are-"

"O'Hara."

"Oh, I apologize."

She noted his attire: black pants and shirt, unbuttoned to the chest. He was wearing a gold necklace with a crucifix and a St. Christopher medal around his neck. Not exactly good interview attire…

"What is it that you need - like I said, we're not open until eleven."

"Mr. Wilkes said that I'd need to be here at ten o'clock, mum."

"Well then, I take it that you're here about the open position."

"That'd be correct, mum." He smiled, showing a shining set of perfectly straight teeth, and stuck out a hand. "And that's a fine coincidence, mum -"

"What is?"

"Your last name is O'Hara, you said. Mine as well. Colum O'Hara."

She rolled her eyes. "Do you know how many O'Hara's there are in Atlanta? And you really don't need to bother with the fake accent, it's not a requirement to work here."

Cathleen cleared her throat. "Well …it might be good for business, hon."

Colum O'Hara smiled. "'Tis not a fake accent, mum. Real as me, so 'tis."

"Oh my God, so you're from like - Europe?"

Scarlett rolled her eyes. Cathleen was such a valley girl when confronted with an attractive male.

Colum nodded, the smile not leaving his face. "Ireland, mum. Yes, sweet County Clare."

Cathleen smiled broadly. "Ah. Well. You'd get the job if it were up to me. But Scarlett's the boss."

Before she could come up with a satisfactory reply, she heard the front door open and the three of them turned to see who it was. Ashley. His blue oxford, red tie, and khakis were immaculate, as though he were off to an office job, not managing a restaurant. Poor Ashley. He really was meant for better things.

"Ah, Scarlett, you came after all, good! And hello, Cathleen," he said, then he began to repeat what he had told Scarlett on the telephone. Liquor distributor issue, Colum's credentials, some bigwig named Fenton that wanted to schedule a corporate party in the music room Thursday night. Then he realized that there was another body in the room and awkwardly shook Colum's hand.

"Well," he said to Colum, "if you'll follow me to the office, we can go over a few things." He then looked over at Scarlett and gave her a thumbs up and a questioning look. She shrugged, realizing that her response would in no way answer his question of whether or not to hire Hottie-From-Ireland. But she didn't care. Not just then.

She wanted to scream.

She wanted more than a drunken night of what-if's and casual whatever-it-was-they-had-done.

She wanted Rhett back. As much as she tried to dismiss the feeling from her mind, she wanted him back.

Suddenly, she felt her phone vibrating in her jeans pocket, and she pulled it out before it began singing.

RKB contact.

"Oh-my-God!" came Cathleen's squeal. "Get it. Get it!"

She clicked Accept. "Hello?"

"Scarlett?" His voice seemed strained.

She tried to calm the churning in her stomach. This might be a normal, honest-to-goodness unimportant phone call.

"Scarlett, are you there?"

"Y-yes," she replied, then cleared her throat again. "I'm kind of busy though. What do you need?"

Cathleen gave her a thumbs up.

"Well, I'm afraid I'm in the midst of a bit of a dilemma."

"What kind of dilemma, Rhett?"

_This might not be a normal phone call!_

"Well, you were right about that damned dog being strong as an ox."

It was not a question.

"I'm sorry?"

"The dog. The wooly mammoth you keep as a pet."

"Well, what'd he do?"

"Well, after Anne left," _Happy, happy, joy, joy!_ "…After Anne left, he started going crazy and scratching at the back door. So I assumed he had failed to complete his business."

"Go on, Rhett." _Get on with it!_

"Well, I put the leash on him and walked him around the pool. But I failed to notice the mailman."

_Shit. Jack hates the mailman. And the feeling is mutual._

"Uh huh."

"Well, that didn't go over too well."

"Uh huh."

"You'll be glad to know that I restrained the animal."

"Uh huh."

"But, I wrapped the leash around my hand in the process."

"What are you talking about? You wrapped the leash and what?"

"The dog was out of control, Scarlett."

"Well, it's not his fault that you let him see the mailman."

"Well, the big dumb ox has broken every bone in my left hand!"

"What? Rhett, you've got to be kidding."

"Scarlett, I dearly wish that I were. You see, it would be a marvelous joke, would it not? No, actually, I am telling the truth. I've broken enough bones in my day to know that yes, it's good and broken, and no, I don't think that I can drive. So, if it wouldn't be _terribly_ inconvenient for you…"

_There it was - that snarky, facetious tone that she loathed more than life!_

"You'd like me to drive you to the hospital?"

"Any minute clinic will do."

She wanted to say no. She wanted to say, "Why call me, and not precious Anne?" More than anything. But she didn't.

"I'll be there in five minutes."

"Oh, take your time. I'll just sit here and …finish these grapes."

She tried to ignore the churning again. Unsuccessfully.


	9. Burned

_**Note: Just wanted to say thank you to all the fabulous folks out there who have read and reviewed this story! A quick caveat as you begin Chapter 9: although I meant for this to be a 'humorous' and 'romantic' story, the fact of the matter is that when you're dealing with Scarlett and Rhett, there are parts of their life together that are neither humorous nor romantic. Nevertheless, I feel like this is an important chapter, although it's slightly different in tone from the rest of the story. Not to worry - the next installment is already in progress, and it's back to the funny and lighthearted. BUT, if you have time, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. Good/bad/ugly - all comments are welcomed with open arms.**_

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><p><em>Just gonna stand there and watch me burn -<em>

_Well that's alright, because I like the way it hurts-_

_Just gonna stand there and hear me cry -_

_Well that's alright, because I love the way you lie-_

For the last year and a half, however long it had been since their divorce had been finalized, this song had figured in a private joke between Scarlett and the children, although she couldn't for the life of her remember its name, let alone the rest of its lyrics or meaning for that matter. She didn't even really like rap all that much, but the refrain was pretty, and the refrain reminded Ella of Rhett for some reason, and Wade had laughed at that idea and asked them both if they were listening to the lyrics and what they actually meant. Scarlett had been on the phone then, so she hadn't had time to listen, simply going along with it without any argument. They'd go for months without hearing it, but whenever they did, Wade would say that Uncle Rhett's song was playing and Ella would giggle and attempt to follow along with the rap part with lyrics of her own, managing to obscure it so that Scarlett could never actually get a sense of the whole thing. But there it was, on the radio as she was speeding home to deal with Rhett's…injury.

She told herself: this means nothing. Absolutely nothing.

She turned up the volume and listened closely to the words, shuddering a little at the memories it prompted.

The studied plunge of one hand into the pocket of his dinner jacket, the swirling of ice cubes in his glass of scotch, the chin thrust into profile, the self-satisfied smirk.

Observe my hands, my dear. I could tear you to pieces with them.

And he could have.

She thought about a conversation she had had with Melly before she died. Melly was describing sex with Ashley, which, since she had been diagnosed with cancer, was happening less and less frequently when it had happened only rarely to begin with. Melly had talked about it so abstractly, and when she did, Ashley came off as utterly disregarding Melly's sensitivity, her need to please him and the feeling that she was lacking. And at the time, Scarlett hadn't been bothered by it, thinking that Ashley's mental fidelity was hers and hers alone, and with all the emotional impenetrability of a seasoned manipulator, Scarlett listened, but gave Melly no practical advice. Not that she would have had much to give, before Rhett, anyway. She had not known what was happening with Charles, and she had hated sex with Frank - truth be told, she had loathed sex with Rhett before _that night_. That night which prompted the similarities to that stupid song, although Wade and Ella would never have known that.

Ashley and she had been working together for years, and Rhett knew it of course. Unfortunately, Rhett had also known that she had secretly liked Ashley for even longer. And he made it just so, by power of his own shrewd manipulation, that after Bonnie's birth, she took a substantial amount of time away from the restaurant and similarly, Ashley. So profound was the isolation in which she was then operating that it did not immediately occur to her that if Ashley would have wanted to, he could have come to see her at the house with Melly. He could have brought Beau over to play with Wade instead of letting Melly do it. He could have done a number of things…

Her chance had come when Rhett went out of town for a quick business trip. It was Ashley's birthday and Melly was throwing a surprise party for him later that evening - the plan was for him to come home from the restaurant at six and for all of their friends to be there, and Scarlett of course, had been invited. Bonnie was asleep in her bassinet and Mammy was there, watching over her and Ella, who was down for a nap. Wade was at school. There was no one to know if she went to the restaurant for a minute or two. So she did. She went with the thought of seeing Ashley for a minute, if only to gain an elucidation of his feelings.

Hugh was leaving for the day and waved goodbye and mouthed that he would see her at the party. It was between three and four in the afternoon, with no patrons and very few servers, very private.

This had seemed a good line of thinking, at the time.

She had found Ashley hunched over his laptop at the bar, doing the lunchtime numbers and visibly relieved to see her, but mumbling something about her seeing just how poor a general manager he really was - she didn't care, and ventured further.

She remembered such situations before, one, at a Christmas party at Melly's aunt's house. Another had been in her Pa's orchard, before he died, and right in the height of the financial crash. Ashley's house had just been foreclosed on.

This time, there were no kisses, no lovers' embraces. It seemed a funny story as she thought on it later, how Ashley's hateful sister and that creepy convict Melly was trying to rehabilitate by putting up in their garage had walked in, thinking that they needed to distract Ashley and keep him at work while Melly made last minute preparations.

But they had seen her with Ashley and they had assumed the worst, running back to Melly with gossip fresh in their teeth like hungry hounds - before even getting there, India had managed to let all of Atlanta know what had happened.

She could still remember Rhett's Facebook status, and only because Rhett wasn't the type to post meaningless quotes or anything, really; but that afternoon, there he was, online:

**_Let's face it. We're undone by each other. And if we're not, we're missing something. If this seems so clearly the case with grief, it is only because it was already the case with desire. One does not always stay intact. It may be that one wants to, or does, but it may also be that despite one's best efforts, one is undone, in the face of the other, by the touch, by the scent, by the feel, by the prospect of the touch, by the memory of the feel. And so when we speak of being, as we do (and as we must), we mean something complicated by it. To be...this way or that way...is not precisely a possession of some thing, character, nature...but is understood as a mode of being dispossessed, ways of being for another, or, indeed, by virtue of another _**

When she read it later, she had written it down on a yellow post-it note and put it on her mirror. Eventually she knew it by heart, although she wasn't altogether certain of its meaning. She knew only that it had been meant for her, and as such, she clung to it…since she could no longer cling to Rhett himself.

She had gone on to Ashley's party that night, not expecting Rhett back in town for another three days - completely unaware that someone (she never knew who it was) who was in contact with Rhett had heard India's prattle. And even though Melly forgave her unequivocally, saying that to hear Scarlett explain would only make her angrier at India for spreading such lies in the first place, Scarlett had gone home wracked with guilt. Hurt too, that Ashley had simply ignored her at the party, staring awkwardly into space as she had sat next to him at dinner. He hadn't even looked her way. Not even a glance. Even if at the time, she would have sold her soul for a kind word from him.

And that kind word was not synonymous with sex. Hardly. Sex for her was a despicable, pointless, painful marital obligation, the sole result of which was babies that she hadn't particularly wanted in the first place…Until that night. Rhett had gotten home early from his business trip…

Ah, what if? Again, that feeling of insufficient appreciation of her children, of Rhett, of Melly…

She turned off the freeway in order to miss the morning traffic and headed onto the feeder road, which forced her to pass within three blocks of Melly and Ashley's old house. She did not look left or right. She turned the radio up and rolled the windows down, avoiding the temptation to miss the school zone by turning right on Ivy and driving past the house where Bonnie had ran half naked across the lawn while Beau and Wade chased her with the garden hose, where she had chased after Ashley under the guise of being Melly's friend; where Melly had spent her final years, days, hours…

She was home in under half an hour, and pulled in the drive hastily and got out of the car equally as fast, as if Rhett's very life depended upon her speed…or worse, as if he might have gotten in touch with Anne and already been gone.

He wasn't.

He was sitting on the couch with frozen peas wrapped around his left hand, a book in his other.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Whatever does it look like, Scarlett?"

"Why the peas?"

He looked a little incredulous. "Don't tell me you've never heard of icing a break, Scarlett? It'll help the swelling and the pain."

"Oh you're such a baby - surely it doesn't hurt that bad -" She could feel herself almost throw up when he took the ice off and lifted the hand, which was about three times the size of the other one in the area between his thumb and index finger.

"That's gross! Oh God, Rhett!"

"Blame your damn dog."

"Well it's not his fault. He was probably upset that someone he didn't know was here, and then you take him out when the mailman's here, when he hates that and…what? What are you laughing at?"

"I'm in excruciating pain, and all you can think about is your…inconvenience. You're terribly kind, Scarlett, as always. What are you digging for in there, anyway?"

She came back into the living room, having found what she needed in the desk drawer. "Here. This should help with the pain."

"What is it?" he took the bottle with his free hand and examined the label. "Flexoril? Why do you have Ashley Wilkes's medication, Scarlett? And what the hell does it do?"

"It's a muscle relaxant. He was taking it like candy after Melly died and finally I had to take it away from him. It'll help, I promise."

"I always preferred alcohol to drugs, but…"

"Oh just take one, I'm sure it won't hurt."

He shrugged. "What the hell."

"Ready?" she asked after he had finished.

He stood up, still holding his peas on his injured hand. "You have a towel for this?"

She nodded and grabbed a washrag from under the kitchen sink and wrapped it around another bag of frozen vegetables. She took his hand and positioned it around the homemade icepack, careful not to move his fingers…

"Better?"

"Much. Thank you. Let me guess, you picked that skill up in Girl Scouts?"

She stuck out her tongue at him. "I was never in Girl Scouts. My Pa had more injuries than I can count when I was a kid. Knees, shoulders, hands, fingers. You name it, it was broken more than once."

"Somehow that in no way surprises me."

"Why? Did he strike you as a klutz?"

"No. Just the sort of guy who would charge headlong into a situation with little to no thought of the outcome. Like someone else I know…and besides, I remember him telling me about the broken knee the first time I met him. 'Sure and Mrs. O'Hara won't be happy when I tell her I walked the length of the golf course and back with you laddie buck, oh but t'will not be said that Gerald O'Hara was seen riding in a cart back. No sir_.'_"

Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "I don't think that you've studied up on that brogue there, me laddie. But nice try. But I remember which one you're talking about, you know, when Pa broke his knee. He broke the exact same one the year before, jumping that same fence."

_Ellen, watch me take this one._

She saw the vortex coming before she even had a chance to deflect it - and Rhett probably did, too - probably more than she did, if truth be told.

Had Bonnie not been born with that same sense of willful, stubborn, Irish courage that her grandfather had, would she have had to have that pony? Had to have those riding lessons? Had to take that jump that was much too high for a five-year-old to take?

_Mommy, watch me take this one._

Rhett cleared his throat and moved to get his wallet, but Scarlett got it for him so that he could hold the ice on the bad hand with the good one. He followed her silently through the front door and to the car. He muttered something about misplaced chivalry as she opened the door on the passenger side for him and told him to get in.

Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore and just asked: "Did Anne leave?"

He looked a little taken aback by her question, and didn't answer until she got into the car and turned the key in the ignition.

"She's at the airport. She only came by to say hi. Before she goes into all-out bride mode."

"I thought she was gone all week."

"Like I said, she was wrapping up a case in San Juan. Her connecting flight was in Atlanta so she stopped by…is that so shocking?"

"Of course not. I was only wondering, since you didn't mention that she was coming-"

"You thought that she was just _checking in_?"

"I don't know what I thought."

"That she didn't trust me, perhaps? That she feels that you're something of a threat?"

The callous tone of his words rubbed her the wrong way, so she retorted: "You're right, Rhett, all divorced couples spend the week before their weddings to someone else with each other. Go out to dinner, get completely wasted and have sex-"

"My God, you called it by it's name. Very good, Scarlett."

She rolled her eyes. Denigrating her, as always.

"But we didn't have sex."

_Thank God._ Although something within her was the tiniest bit disappointed…

"But we could have."

"Listen, Scarlett, I realize that my behavior was…look, you're right. I was drunk. Very much so. And quite…swept away by your charms. But I'm also smart enough to know my boundaries, and they are very much intact, my dear."

There it was: the cool, collected mask that infuriated her more than even his worst displays of temper.

"Did she notice the dress?"

"What?"

"The dress on the lampshade, did she notice?"

"Ah, that. I told her that you had a late night visitor."

"Nice. Lying to her already, and you're not even married yet."

"Oh come on, Scarlett - we both know that it's not far from the truth. You and Ashley are practically conjoined at the hip now. And you know, I'm happy for you."

"I don't want Ashley." _Shit! Shit! Shit! Why did she say that out loud?_

He looked mildly amused. "Why not? He's free now."

She shrugged. "I just gave you the medicine I had to take away from him."

"So you're saying that he's more like a child than a potential suitor? Well, that makes sense. Surely there's someone else. That Fenton guy raves about how hot you are."

"Luke Fenton? The British Airways guy? How do you know him?"

_Luke Fenton was hot. And always throwing parties at Kennedy's, whenever he had corporate people in town…if she had known that he was Rhett's friend, she would have been nicer to him…_

"He's Anne's client. She's defending him…some housekeeper said he assaulted her and…"

"And you want me to date this person?"

"You know how women are. They'll say anything and everything to get money. Nah, the way Anne explained it to me, this girl was a hooker on the side with a dope habit, needed money and wanted publicity - so you know how it is…"

"As much as I've always heard how all women are supposed to be attracted to strong, powerful men, I'm afraid that rapists never held any charms with me. Sorry."

He looked a little abashed then, and she saw that his eyes were slightly blurred. That muscle relaxant must be kicking in.

"What is it, are you in pain?" she asked.

He looked on the verge of tears.

"Look, Scarlett, I think that I know what you're getting at…and you're right. As much as I'd like to reframe my conduct of _that _evening in a more…favorable light…I am left feeling that I was a real bastard and the reason you never called me out on it was so as not to feel violated or shamed, when my only intent was to make you feel just that - and I'm sorry for it now, if it matters…I'm terribly…terribly sorry."

That was not what she meant. By a long shot. That night, the one where he had taken her in his arms and carried her forcibly up those stairs had been the most exciting of her life. The moment where she had realized just how much she _wanted_ him, as well as needed him.

"We were married. It wasn't the same thing," she said lamely.

"I very much doubt that my behavior would have flown, morally or legally or otherwise, had we not been married. You said no and I…"

"Really?"

"Well, you did."

_I did say no. Before I wrapped my arms around you and let you carry me upstairs._

"I never took it as…you know…"

"I really do doubt that. And I am sorry. Just like last night…God damn it, Scarlett, some people just bring out the worst in each other. And you bring out the worst of me."

She wanted to respond: But Rhett, you bring out the very best in me.

But then, she remembered where that experience had led them. To him leaving, taking Bonnie with him to his mothers for two whole months. Her knowing that she was pregnant and for the first time in her life, being happy about it. Waiting for him to come back, if only to tell them that they could start over again…

The miscarriage. The rush of blood. The pain.

Rhett was still talking, then, about something else, something she had missed. She wanted to ask him to repeat it but figured that it wasn't worth it.

She thought about where not talking had led them - divorce. And in the time they had been away from each other, she had been given the freedom to mourn. Until then, she had been able to passively grieve, but not mourn. Mourning required action, attention, and time. Up until then, she had been so worried about Rhett leaving and the urgent pressing needs of her restaurant, of the children, of Ashley and Beau, that she had forgotten how and why she needed that time for herself. To mourn the loss of Bonnie, the unborn baby, and of Melly.

That, and only that, was enabling them to have this conversation about the darkest part of their married life…well…she glanced over at Rhett, who had fallen asleep, his head resting lightly on the window of the car - maybe that Flexoril had something to do with it…

She felt her phone vibrate in her lap and silenced it quickly, wanting Rhett to sleep and figuring that it was probably Ashley with another stupid question. She waited until a red light before checking the text message. It was from Wade.

Can you please pick me up from school right now? I'm in the principal's office.


	10. Regretted

**Chapter 10:**

* * *

><p>The middle school looked very appealing from the road. It was relatively small, a brick building with gravel pathways and a rose garden and beds that Melly had overseen the design of, edged with thyme and santolina that the kids were responsible for tending. But didn't all exclusive private schools have the same exterior appeal?<p>

For twenty thousand a year, you'd expect all that and more ...that was until you actually entered the hallowed halls and were in the company of the privileged kids and their teachers, sly, smug creatures who thought that teaching at private school gave them a significant class advantage over their counterparts at public. Many were alumni - too comfortable in their old environment to want to go anywhere else. Or perhaps, Scarlett thought alternatively, no other institution would have them. The horrors of the school were crying out to her as she walked down the cool, dark, polished corridors, which were adorned with trophies and photographs of alumni and a gigantic mural of the Battle of Atlanta during the Civil War which she had never noticed before, although she had walked by it a dozen times or more. And then the kids. Reminders of her own childhood, as a good deal of them had parents she knew well. Recognition flared in their shrewd little eyes as she walked down the hall, and not the good sort. They were all out of dress code, wearing either khakis or jeans and blue or gold polo shirts. She could make out the cliques just from her short trip down the main hallway to the office: the jocks, their cheerleader counterparts, the smart kids, the nerds, the black kids who were good in sports (those were the only black kids enrolled at the school) - and then there was Wade, who as far as she knew, had no group of friends. Not any friends at all. It made no sense for him to even be at the damned school. It never did. She felt like pulling him out then and there, putting him in public and saving twenty grand a year…then she remembered that Rhett was paying for that education and it weighed a lot less heavily on her conscience.

The school secretary had been employed there since Scarlett herself had been Wade's age. She wondered who would want to spend that many years as a school secretary. Ugly women, naturally. It made no sense for anyone else. She told the woman whose mother she was and why she was there and the secretary replied that Miss Tarleton was having a word with Mr. Kowalski the principal, and that he'd see her directly.

Miss Tarleton. She should have known that Randa Tarleton would have something to do with whatever it was that had brought Wade there. She was his Spanish teacher, although Scarlett knew for a fact that she didn't speak one word of Spanish. She had taught Social Studies the year before, and math before that…not really doing a fantastic job at any of the subjects. Another charity case of the administration of this godforsaken school, Scarlett thought, glancing down at her watch and wondering how Rhett was doing at the Neighbor MD across the street.

Finally, the door opened and she could hear a male voice saying: "Is Mrs. Butler here, yet?"

Principal Kowalski was was in his late sixties or early seventies. He had retired from a small college somewhere in New England and had been a friend of Melly's, although none of the other parents really liked him all that much. His eyes were remarkably wide and luminous as he stood up and motioned for her to enter.

Scarlett stood up and passed through the door, not bothering to correct him that she was not Mrs. Butler at all, but Ms. O'Hara again.

Wade was sitting stonily in one of the chairs opposite Principal Kowalski, who returned to the desk in the rear of the room. Randa Tarleton was standing, her bright red hair looking bigger than usual. Silver threads were showing up at her temples, Scarlett noted with immense pleasure. Gaudy rings adorned her fingers, chosen for maximum sparkle - but none of them were real, Scarlett observed. Randa had on a bright green satin shirt with pearl buttons and silver and turquoise earrings that didn't quite match the blouse. She was rubbing her fingers against her soft, doughy chin. Wade looked quite stoic, although visibly shaken. If he could just hold it together while she straightened whatever mess this was out, he would have a good long cry in the car if she knew him.

"Why there's Scarlett!" Randa chirped.

"I apologize for calling you all the way out here, Mrs. Butler," the silver-haired Principal Kowalski began.

"It's O'Hara, sir. She's not married anymore."

Scarlett plastered on her biggest fake smile. "And how are you, Randa? Still living with your parents?"

There. That wiped the smirk off of Randa Tarleton's face. Scarlett felt a little guilty for dragging the elder Tarletons and the rest of the family into it, for she liked Randa's mom and dad, old friends of her parents, and she had dated both Brent and Stu, Randa's twin brothers…but Randa and her sister Hettie, Wade's and Ella's teachers respectively, hated her from childhood and extended that hatred to both of her children. Case in point.

"So, why am I here?" she asked, trying to change the subject back to Wade, but Randa wasn't done.

"I've been meaning to call you before now, Scarlett. We've been racking our brains trying to think of someone to talk to the eighth grade girls about teenage pregnancy…and I told at least three different people that you'd be perfect…I mean, what better experience than firsthand?"

Scarlett glared at the other woman and suddenly wished that they were back in high school, and she could have beaten the living crap out of her -

But Mr. Kowalski intervened. "Miss Tarleton was concerned with Mr. Hamilton's behavior today, concerned enough to call you, Mrs. Butler-"

"O'Hara." Scarlett snapped.

"O'Hara, excuse me. But…we have you in the directory as Mrs. Butler..?"

"I'm divorced."

"Oh I see. Well, you must correct the school secretary on the way out…it's essential that our directory be up to date."

"I can never keep up with Scarlett," Randa laughed hollowly, "…as many times as she's changed last names…"

"I have no trouble keeping up with yours, seeing as it hasn't changed."

She thought that Wade grinned a little, even in his misery.

Again the principal spoke. "Mr. Hamilton was caught cheating this morning-"

"Cheating? Wade?"

"Caught him red handed," Randa interrupted.

"He'd never cheat, he doesn't need to cheat. Come on, Wade, let's go."

"He sent out an email with the correct answers for my pop quiz today. I confiscated the phone -" Randa looked triumphant. "And I suspect that this is not the first time it's happened."

"Wade?" Scarlett looked at him, "What's she talking about?"

"I took a picture," he sniffed.

"What? Speak up."

"I took my quiz and took a picture and sent it to someone," he mumbled.

"Let me guess, someone asked you to do that for them…" she looked at him expectantly, knowing her son.

But he shook his head.

Principal Kowalski seemed to catch onto her drift. "Did someone else ask you to do this, Mr. Hamilton?"

Wade shook his head. "No sir."

Randa rolled her eyes. "Of course he thought it up. He's clearly not been taught any better."

The elderly principal set back and shook his head. "Well, Mr. Hamilton, I have no choice but to send you home for the day. You will receive no credit for the assignment, as a punishment for your actions."

Randa looked aghast. "That's it?"

"I think that the lesson has been learned, do you not, Miss Tarleton?" the Principal looked knowingly at Scarlett, who, like her or hate her, was a board trustee and a substantial donor. He knew that she had already been offended by the scurrilous comments of his faculty member, and he was content to see Wade walk out and let the issue pass.

Randa looked profoundly hurt at the outcome, and short of stamping her feet and pulling her hair in protest, had to shut her mouth as Scarlett put her arm around Wade's shoulder and steered him out of the office and out to the secretary's desk, where she signed him out for the day.

"What classes are you going to miss?" she asked him as they walked back through the dim, airless hall.

"Algebra. History. We're in the Civil War right now and I've been lost since last week. And English. We're just memorizing poems."

He looked so utterly pitiful with his lower lip out, she felt compelled to tighten her grip on his shoulder. She had called it. As soon as they were out to the car the tears flooded his eyes and he let out a loud wail, throwing himself into her arms. There was something oddly sweet about holding one's twelve-year-old son as he cries his eyes out, despite the obvious discomfort when being leered at by the maintenance men, who were ogling her instead of trimming the shrubs.

Finally he was done crying and she suggested that they get a burger at Sonic, that food might make him feel better. Despite his initial protest that he wasn't hungry, he managed to polish off a double cheeseburger and two orders of fries in short order. She slurped on a vanilla milkshake while he ate, then gave the rest to him to finish.

"You were trying to do something for Alice, weren't you?"

He nodded. "She forgot to study. I really didn't think it'd matter-"

"Well, it did, didn't it?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Well, are you going to do it again?"

"No ma'am."

"Don't just yes ma'am and no ma'am me. You know better than this, Wade Hampton Hamilton."

"I'm really sorry!"

"Well, sorry doesn't cut it. You're grounded, mister."

"She was…she was so nice."

"What?"

"About the quiz. She said thank you. That I was smarter than any of her other friends and that she-"

"I don't care if she told you that you were the next King of England - I did not raise you to help other people cheat."

He looked hurt, but replied, "Yes, ma'am."

"We better go and get Uncle Rhett," she said, then turned on the ignition and backed out, not seeing that a black truck was backing out behind her and that she almost hit him. When the driver honked at her, she honked back and shouted: _Blow it out your ass_!

Wade was silent as she pulled into the walk in clinic, but then asked, "What's Uncle Rhett doing here?"

"There he is-" Scarlett pointed at the bench out front.

There he was indeed. Much less offensive when not in the company of a woman who was not her, looking like a middle aged gentleman in the navy blue T-shirt and white shorts he had changed into after she had left. She had a fleeting mental image of him and Anne having quick sex in her kitchen, so she was pleased to see him sporting a cast that covered his whole hand so that only his thumb was exposed. He looked miserable, as though he'd just been hit by a Mack truck. He deserved it.

She didn't even ask how are you, because she knew the answer. He was no good when he wasn't in control. And a broken hand certainly didn't qualify as control.

He got in the backseat and didn't say anything, except to say no thank you when Scarlett offered a sip of her milkshake. He didn't seem to notice that Wade was in the front, and Scarlett mouthed to her son that Rhett was just tired.

After about ten minutes of driving, Wade asked in a soft voice.

"What's wrong with me that I just don't fit in anywhere?"

"Middle school's just not your métier. High school will be better, I promise you that."

"Was it better for you?"

She smiled, thinking of Randa Tarleton's barbed comments about her having Wade. The big-haired bitch. Just because she had dated her brothers in succession and every other boy at Fayetteville had wanted to date her and not Randa or her equally ugly, catty sisters. Well, she was just damned glad that she had Charlie Hamilton's kid and not Brent or Stuart's. Not that the boys weren't great in their own rights; no, she was just -

She took a look at her son's eyes, red and swollen from crying, and then took a look at Rhett in the back seat, pretending to snooze and not really doing so.

She gave Wade a little smile. "You just need to learn not to care so much about what anyone else says or thinks. I used to be upset when people would talk about me. And you know, I was young too…I was-" She felt the need to reassert that fact to the gentleman in the back who was almost certainly listening intently.

"Were you sorry that you had me?" Wade finally asked.

Scarlett shook her head emphatically no, meaning it this time. "No. I mean, you were coming whether I was ready or not…and in a lot of ways, I wasn't ready. You know, when you were a little boy, I was just eighteen and on my own. But you turned out okay, in spite of me being me…I guess I was just meant to be your mom. You know, you're the only boy I've got, so I guess I'll keep you."

He smiled broadly then, as if she had made him the happiest boy in the world.

She glanced up at the rearview mirror again. Rhett had closed his eyes and was pretending to sleep again.

Since he was asleep anyway, she figured that he'd be alright while she ran into the restaurant to see how Ashley was handling the lunch crowd. It took forever to find a parking space. So that was good, at least. She told Wade to wait in the car and come and get her if Rhett's pain meds wore off and he needed to get home.

Ashley was looking frazzled when she came in, on the phone saying something about Thursday night being completely booked up in the venue room. He hung up, sounding supremely frustrated before he noticed Scarlett standing there.

"What was that?"

"We're overbooked as it is. I had to call Luke Fenton from British Airways and tell him that we had to cap his party at twenty. Maybelle did book the whole room first, in all fairness-"

"Call Fenton back. Tell him he can bring whoever he wants - how many did he want?"

"Forty-two. It's the Hartsfield Jackson business office."

"Call him back right now, Ashley! Maybelle's got a party full of kids - can you imagine how much money we'll lose if we cap the adults? God's nightgown, Ashley, I wish you'd think for a change!"

He looked hurt. "I'm sorry, Scarlett. I just thought that our policy was normally first come, first serve."

"Not when there's that much money on the line!"

"Scarlett, you seem -"

"What, stressed? Well, I am. Rhett's in the car with broken hand, Wade got sent home from school and now I have to deal with _this_. And then there's the fact that Anne was in my house today, prancing around like a goddamned queen and there I am - in my pajamas! What am I supposed to feel?"

He put a hand on her shoulder. "She was probably pretty damn jealous."

"Really?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Ashley, I don't know what to do. I don't, I really, really don't."

"You still love him, don't you?"

She shrugged. "Well, I don't know if I'd go that far…but last night he and I…well…"

"Oh, Jesus, Scarlett!"

"No, we didn't do _that_. Apparently."

"You mean, you didn't remember?"

"I was two sheets to the wind."

He rolled his eyes. "Surprise, surprise. And then Anne showed up, huh?"

She shook her head. "Too strange, isn't it?"

He agreed, then looked a little confused. "So, you said that Rhett had a broken ..?"

"Hand." She raised her hand as though to illustrate her point. "He got it caught in Jack's leash after his blushing bride went back to the airport."

"Interesting…so I guess he won't be driving back to Charleston?"

She thought about it. Yes, the hand would make it pretty damned difficult to drive anywhere, let alone nearly six hours and on a time schedule.

"He'll have to fly. And he's in a lot of pain, Ashley."

Ashley smiled wryly. "Maybe he won't be able to make the wedding at all."

Scarlett shrugged. "He'll make it. He always does."

She retrieved the papers she needed and said goodbye to Ashley and waved to Hugh, who looked extra cheerful, no doubt over his role in their current state of success. Now, if the two morons could just manage to not botch it all...

Wade and Rhett were in deep conversation when she opened the car door, and she felt vaguely bad about interrupting them. Talking to Rhett was exactly what Wade needed, man to man. And she noted with amusement that Rhett was a good deal more alert than he had let on…so that medicine wasn't as strong as he wanted her to think…he had just wanted to eavesdrop on their conversation…

"It's close to three," she said, "Think you can last if we just go on and pick Ella up from here?"

Wade nodded and Rhett said, "That'll be fine."

Ella was right on time, for once. And word had spread of Wade's early dismissal like wildfire, she announced proudly as she jumped into the backseat next to Rhett.

"Wow, you're picking us up, too? Gee. It is like you're staying," she commented.

"So it would seem," he said, pinching her cheek with his free hand. "For a couple days."

"So," she asked after several minutes of staring at his bandaged hand. "How are you going to get married with that thing?"

He looked down at the hand. "Well, the normal way, I suppose…"

"No, no - I meant - how are you gonna get the ring on?" she asked with utter seriousness.

Scarlett nearly lost it as he looked down and pondered the problem for himself.

"Damn," he muttered to himself. "Hell if I know."

Scarlett didn't say a word, but she exchanged a subtle glance with Wade, something akin to a smirk formed on both of their faces. Ella wasn't quite so subtle. "I think that this is a sign that you should just call off the whole thing," she said. "Then you can just stay here with us and it'll be like old times."

He touched her hair somewhat delicately, and laughed his big, careless laugh. "We'll see…we'll see…"

Half an hour later and they were home. Wade and Ella went to the television instantly to begin their ritual of fighting over programming for their allotted hour each, while Scarlett let Jack out in the back yard to pee while Rhett lumbered into the guest bedroom and said that he had to make a few phone calls.

Not more than five minutes had passed before Scarlett heard him call her name and she had to help him get his injured hand through his shirt sleeve.

"Why did you need to change?" she scolded him playfully.

"I smell like dog and antiseptic," he retorted, and she felt the muscles in his chest tense as her fingers made contact with his skin. She looked him over, and felt a blush appear on her cheeks as her own body filled with it's own heat. God, she loved this man.

"Try not to stare, Scarlett. It's terribly rude of you."

"I was not-"

"You were."

"Well if you're going to be nasty, I'll just-"

"No. No, don't go. I need…"

"What do you need, Rhett?"

"I need you to get a clean T-shirt out of my suitcase."

She smiled cheekily as she held the white tee tantalizingly in front of him - then she realized that he was holding his arms over his middle for a reason…

"Rhett Butler, I have seen you in all states. There's no need for you to be embarrassed."

He grabbed the shirt out of her fist with his free hand and brushed by her stormily.

"What? What did I say?"

"Do you know how it feels, Scarlett?"

"What?"

"Getting old. Getting fat."

"I've had three children," she offered, then tugged the shirt out of his grasp and stretched the sleeve wide enough to allow for the cast to go in easily. "I understand, Rhett. But you're still…attractive."

"Attractive?" he growled.

"Well, I mean…you are getting married. Something must be working."

Again the noncommittal grunt.

"I mean, Anne must find you attractive…" she tried again.

"You know what it is?" he said, his voice husky and making her tingle in strange places.

"What?"

"My…relationship with Anne…it's not going as I had hoped."

"Oh." _Bingo_. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that when it started, it was like I was young again. With a young girl. Smart as hell. Sweet as apple pie and damned good in bed." He looked over at Scarlett, who was glowering. "But then I'd wake up in the morning, and realize that I wasn't kidding anyone…not even myself. And here I stand. Shirttail out. Here comes the fat old man."

Something stung in her then. That indifference again…or was it - he was looking deep into her eyes.

"I could never figure out how to live with you, Scarlett. I tried my best, but I could never make it work...But being here, with you and the kids…I'm finding that the idea of living without you might be even harder."

She stood there without saying anything for a solid minute, not knowing how to respond at all, but then, Ella let out a loud yell from the living room.

"Look, Mother! Look! Quick! Look!"

She ran down the hall and heard Rhett's footsteps reverberate from behind. So he did love her, he did miss her. He did care, after all.

Ella and Wade were enthralled by something on the TV. It was a black and white movie by the look of it -

"Look, Mother, it's Aunt Melly, look!"

"It does look like her," Wade agreed.

Rhett let out a loud laugh. "I bet you have no idea who that is."

"Aunt Melly's long lost twin?" Ella offered.

Scarlett turned the volume up a little so she could hear what the characters were saying. The Melly look-alike had rounded on the second of two men and was snapping curtly: "I'd have forgotten all about you in two weeks. I was in love with Clark Gable last year and if I could get over him in a cinch, I could get over you."

"Who is Clark Gable?" the blonde male character replied.

And then Rhett smirked. "And who does that remind you of?"

"Who _is _Clark Gable?" Ella looked up at Rhett expectantly.

"A very famous actor in the 1930's. Google him," Rhett said. "You know, in my younger years, all of my teachers used to say that I looked like Clark Gable."

Scarlett raised an eyebrow. She had no idea who Clark Gable was, but it was somewhat endearing that Rhett looked like him, whoever he was.

He then said that he had forgotten what it was he was supposed to be doing. "I need to make another phone call," he said.

"Do look Gable up on Google," he said then, leaving Scarlett to stand there, wondering if she had heard what he said about Anne correctly or if she had merely dreamt it up.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Note: If anyone is interested, this is the scene from the movie that Wade and Ella are watching- see if you can spot the future GWTW principals. I couldn't resist including it somewhere in this, the modern cut: <strong>_www. youtube .com/watch?v=bxvftnVU71Y


	11. Surrendered

**Chapter 11:**

* * *

><p>Rhett had gone to his room to make his phone calls.<p>

She had Google-searched Clark Gable and spent the next hour watching The Misfits with Marilyn Monroe on Youtube, before finally getting bored with waiting for Rhett to emerge so that she could continue the line of conversation he had started in the bedroom.

He never came out.

She spent a few minutes on Facebook, updating Kennedy's status and thanking Urbanspoon for rating them #1 overall in Atlanta for both Casual Dining and Family Friendly Venue. Then she took a look at her own profile, on which no one had posted in a coon's age, except for a stupid tag-you're-it thing from Cathleen. Cathleen's profile picture had to be almost ten years old, if not more. She was wearing a bikini and was about forty pounds lighter.

Scarlett's was more recent, but not very. She had been at a charity event as a stand-in for Melly; it was after she had died, but just after…and Ashley hadn't wanted to go alone. He had snapped a picture of her looking down over the balustrade - looking for Rhett, although, obviously, Ashley didn't know that…

Poor Ashley…she supposed that she should feel guilty for using him to make Rhett jealous…and leading him on when she no longer felt anything for him but sisterly friendship. She probably _would_ go to Hell after she was dead for all the bad things she had done in her life. She rolled her eyes as she remembered her final therapy session with Doctor Dean before she had switched therapists.

"_You know, Doctor, I've been sitting here for the past thirty-seven minutes waiting for you to tell me something valuable about myself and my situation, and the only thing you've managed to ask me is how I feel. Well to answer your question honestly, I feel pretty lousy. If I didn't, I doubt if I'd be sitting here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for three hundred dollars a pop. Now, if you don't mind, would you please tell me something that you've learned about me over the last two and a half years?"_

"_Miss O'Hara. If I may be frank, your incapacity for a commitment in any of your relationships is apparently unmodifiable; your egocentricity quite basic. You appear to be devoid of any means of understanding the strong emotions in those about you or of having anything close to adequate awareness of what makes them act when they act in accordance with principles they value. The only thing preventing me from diagnosing you as completely psychopathic is that you successfully pursue ends that lead to your material well-being and manage to avoid putting yourself in positions of obvious folly and shame. However, that's not to say that I do not sense an inward hollowness and a serious lack of insight." _

She laughed at the memory, although she had found it anything but funny at the time. Doctor Meade was a much better therapist anyway, even if he was married to the town gossip.

She returned her attention to her Facebook picture.

Her hair was a little longer then. It needed to be cut, but she hadn't had time since the funeral. Her dress had been intentionally inconspicuous. An A-line taupe with understated beading along the high neckline and a full skirt, not at all form fitting. She had been a good ten pounds thinner then, too, but from stress rather than any sort of diet. That it was a good picture was terribly surprising, and that Ashley had taken it was even more so. She opened the picture in the picture viewing software so that she could get a better look at it. Her eyes looked a little less "baggy" and she had worn only minimal makeup. But her hair was so dark that it set off the nonexistent contours of her body to perfection, and she looked ageless, faceless, and like her mother. That her mother had been a depressed woman was no family secret. Hardly. Everybody knew that Ellen O'Hara had been young Ellen Robillard once. That she had been madly in love with a man who was as blue blooded as herself. One of those summertime, country-club romances - best left ensconced in memory and then left undisturbed. Right before her mother had died, she had revealed to Scarlett the horror of being pulled out of a Tri Delta retreat and sent to the on-call grief counselor, who was already waiting for her at the sorority house. Philippe had been the victim of a hit-and-run motorcycle accident. Scarlett had not known the story before her mother told her in that last conversation between them, and she only knew Philippe was the man's name because right after they heard that Charlie was dead and how, her mother had shaken her head and moaned "Just like Philippe". She had given no explanation for her outburst, but looked pale and shaken for the rest of the funeral and not herself for the rest of the time she was at home, biding her time while she waited for Wade to come...

That was the worst part about being pregnant, in Scarlett's opinion - being shut off from the world.

Although, to be quite fair, that wasn't exactly the case with Ella and Bonnie… Frank had been a ninny about his wife needing to stay home while "in a condition" - but she had quite frankly let her imbecilic husband know that she had no intention whatsoever of playing "Ma" to his Michael Landon-inspired Pa, to darn the socks and iron the shirts while he went to the Mercantile to pick up supplies for the farm. Frank was too old to appreciate her analogy, which irked Scarlett, who had picked it intentionally, thinking that he might understand.

Wishful thinking, she supposed.

Then, there had been Rhett. Rhett, who was so overjoyed by the prospect of her being pregnant…and out of nowhere, the career womanizer became the Father-of-the-Year contender…

To be fair, he _had_ doted on Bonnie, to be sure. Hell, he doted on Wade and Ella. She opened Windows Picture Gallery and scrolled through the thumbnails, 2011, 2010, 2009, 2008 - she paused, finding what she was looking for.

She had taken the picture when Bonnie was three or so and Rhett was wearing the hat that she had hot-glued three turkey feathers on the brim. It was a silly picture, with Rhett's fingers pulling the corners of his mouth downed into a frown and Bonnie had her mouth wide open with delighted laughter at how ridiculous he looked. Wade was in the background, his mouth furrowed in concentration as he tried to pry the glue off of his hands and Ella was trying to eat the glue.

Her face felt hot, and she was vaguely aware of a moistness on the corners of her eyes. She fanned it with the program from the Blue and Gold Gala that she had left sitting on her desk, and turned her attention to Ella, who was attempting something that might have been mistaken for a back handspring, only ever-so-slightly less…springy.

"Ella, baby, I've not seen anything like that since Britney Spears's last MTV Music Awards performance," she commented, half truthfully.

"I know, right?" Ella grinned. "I've been practicing."

"What is that, who are you listening to?"

"Ashley Tisdale."

Ah, she should have guessed. Another blonde-haired, tiny-bottomed, talentless Disney Channel castoff.

"I'm not doing it right," Ella complained. "I want to try out for the Camp Rock musical but I can't dance. All the girls were making fun of me today in gym 'cause I said that I wanted to try out for the lead. Well, Hannah Whiting said that just 'cause Uncle Rhett gave the theater department a lot of money Mrs. Davis let me be Tiger Lily. That's not true, is it?"

Wade was sitting on the couch reading, but Scarlett could see that he was listening too. She remembered him asking something similar a few months before after he was voted Student of the Month and got a letter from the Governor. She had reassured him that with his straight A's, he had nothing to worry about and was being silly. Ella, on the other hand…Rhett's donation just _might_ have swayed Mrs. Davis's decision. But no way was she going to say that…

"That's ridiculous, Ella Lorena. Why, I have half a mind to call Mrs. Whiting right now and tell her that her daughter is an ignorant little bitch."

Ella beamed. "I knew it."

Wade burst out laughing. "Maybe you should call Mrs. Whiting up anyway, and tell _her_ that she's an ignorant little bitch."

"Wade Hampton! Now just because Mother can say certain words doesn't mean that you can. Don't forget that you're grounded anyway, Mister."

"Sorry," he looked sheepish, "But it's true."

He did have a point.

"Mother, can you teach me how to dance?" Ella asked with no small amount of trepidation in her voice. "Please? Maybe if you taught me how, I could get a part in the musical and show them all, please?"

Scarlett seriously doubted that any amount of help could turn Ella into a dancer…

"Well…" she tried to think of a way to say it delicately. "We could try…"

"Please, Mother? _Please_?"

"Okay, okay. Music, please. Something with a beat that we can start with…"

Wade had already intercepted her computer chair and opened Itunes, and Paparazzi was blaring before Scarlett even had a chance to approve the selection.

"No, no …something easier to start out with. Somewhat easier to imitate than Gaga."

"Madonna?" Wade suggested, a coy look on his face.

"Do not mock the Queen, Wade Hampton. No…hmm…what about Britney? Easy steps and a synchronized beat. Easy to follow."

Scarlett realized too late that her jeans were the ultra low-rise variety, and probably not all that appropriate for demonstrating the finer points of choreography to one's eight-year-old daughter and twelve-year-old son. Oh well - since when had she been the typical mom?

Then, Britney's voice belted out a song that was familiar for more than that it was Britney's …then she launched into a routine that felt second nature…she couldn't place it at first.

And then it hit her. "Circus." And then she gave her all to the song that she danced to with Ashley…intentionally…in front of Rhett.

That had been prior to the divorce.

On the occasion which she had worn the taupe dress.

In front of her, Ella was giggling and tossing her hair and her hips in a manner which Wade seemed to find hilarious, and which she could only hope was an inaccurate impression of her.

Then, her blood went cold.

Rhett was standing in the doorway, watching her and Ella gyrate their hips, winding up for the big finish…and clearly, he was thinking something along the same lines. He hadn't forgotten her performance with Ashley. Even though that had been all it was - a performance for his benefit. And as usual, it had backfired. Circus, indeed.

Rhett was smirking as they finished, Ella with the final flourish of her handspring-ish thing and Scarlett with none. Then Ella hugged her and gushed about how she was the best mother in the world and she would tell Hannah Whiting that _her_ mother was the best dancer in the world and that she better not be so rude to her 'cause she was going to get that lead and thank you and thank you and thank you.

"We better go upstairs," Wade said. He had clearly noticed the dark expression on Rhett's face.

"Okay," Ella replied, then said, "Goodnight, Uncle Rhett."

"Night," he replied half-heartedly. Scarlett's heart skipped a beat. He didn't take his eyes off of her.

"I better turn in too," she started to follow the children, but his hand was on her arm before she had walked two steps.

"What was that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You most certainly do, Scarlett O'Hara. And like hell are you going to waltz out of here before we finish our discussion."

He had put on cologne since he had been home. He had on Givenchy's big seller, PI… She knew right away because she had bought it for Ashley for Christmas. It was very much an Ashley scent: citrusy, with a subtle hint of vanilla. It didn't suit Rhett half as much.

He had been a Blue by Hugo Boss man for as long as she had known him. Clearly the PI was courtesy of Anne. See how well she knows you, she wanted to smart. _Not_!

"I'll be back in a minute," she promised, patting his non-injured arm. _His ridiculously buff arm_! "I'm just going to make sure they're in bed."

"They can surely handle it for a couple of minutes."

Oh-my-God, she had him sweating.

There wasn't a moment to lose, she could see that much. She tossed her hair back, attempting to look casual.

"I have certainly…overstepped myself since I've been here. I've been completely out of line with certain comments, actions. Of course, in my defense, I did have a hefty amount of pain medication in my system."

She forced a smile. He was going to take back everything he had said earlier.

"I know."

"You know?"

"Of course I know."

"That's a relief."

"Good, happy to help."

"Wait." Again, that iron grip on her arm. "I. Want. To. Talk."

"What do you want to talk about, Rhett?"

"I'm afraid that I…I misled you…about the other night."

_I knew it!_

"So we…"

He nodded. "We did. And I apologize for it. It was my mistake and I take full responsibility…"

Somehow, the fact that he was apologizing bothered her more than the fact that he had lied about it in the first place.

She tried to keep her voice down so that the children wouldn't inadvertently hear any details.

"So _that's_ why Anne came and went so fast, isn't it?"

"No. What I said was true. She has no idea-"

Somehow, that gave her a new reason to stop whispering. She was good and riled now.

"So you were going to, what, Rhett? Let me believe that nothing happened and then you tell me _now_ - why, so that you can get _married_ to someone else with a clear conscience! So you didn't mean a damn thing you said earlier - you just wanted to get this off of your chest because you're pissed off at Anne? What the _hell_ is your problem?"

"My problem? My problem is you, Scarlett, you. It hasn't changed."

"Your problem, huh? So why are you here then?"

"I can't stay away."

"You can go to hell, Rhett Butler."

"You're one to talk, you know. Spending seven years of our marriage pretending I was Ashley, dreaming of Ashley…well why haven't you married him, Scarlett?"

"Because I wanted you, you stupid son of a bitch! Not Ashley! I do not love Ashley! And who do you think you are, anyway? Do I need to remind you that you're engaged? And not married to me anymore?"

"That may be, Scarlett. But that doesn't mean that I don't still care - about Wade and Ella - and about you."

Then he reached out and crushed her to his chest.

She struggled to break loose from the smothering embrace - if she didn't, she would be in grave danger of melting in those strong arms…

She had to think rationally. She had to…had to…

"Shouldn't you be with her?" she asked.

"I should." His voice came out like a crack, hoarse and…miserable. "Unfortunately for me, I just talked to her for an hour on the phone and could think of nothing but you."

She should say no. No. No. No.

But there was something about his proximity. The raw _need_ in his voice. He was close to begging. Rhett Butler did not beg.

The weight of his strong hand on the small of her back was triggering a flashback of the other, drunken night. She should just give in so that she could enjoy it this time.

Suddenly, the smell of PI wasn't quite so repugnant, even if it did remind her of Ashley.

"I just…" she was babbling and she knew it. So did he. He was stroking her neckline with his index finger, triggering the response that only he could provoke. "I don't want to…"

"What?"

_Be the other woman_. Then, she realized that she had been the other woman for years. Right under Melly's nose, and as she pretended to be her friend. What was the difference between Melly and Anne, besides the fact that she owed Anne absolutely nothing?

"We're divorced…we lead separate lives…we…"

_You have Anne and I have…nobody…because nobody is going to replace you just like Anne isn't really going to replace me for you._

"I know." His lips were alarmingly close to hers. "I remember what I said."

_My dear, I don't give a damn._

Don't give a damn. Give a damn.

"Is that what you want, Scarlett? For me to be with Anne?"

She was surprised that her jaw remained closed.

"You ask me this _now_?"

He pressed his mouth over hers. She froze, unconscious of anything but the overwhelming sense of bliss, of rightness. Oh God, this is the way it should be.

She was still conscious of the fact that every light in the house was on, and that the children could have been lurking on the stairs, sneaking a peek…surely not!

She slid her arms around his neck and before she knew it, she was stifled against him. He was bent over her and had her pinned against the back of the couch. She could feel the growing heat emitting from his workout shorts, not to mention the…appendage…beneath said shorts.

She was remembering _that night_, body and mind. His bullying and breaking, the ecstasy of surrender, of being conquered in body after all those years of bullying and breaking others…

But something left over of her mother's morality was screaming into her brain: Don't do it! He's engaged, Katie Scarlett! Nothing will come out of this but more expensive therapy…or a baby…

_I'll think about that tomorrow._

She had to do the right thing, push him away.

"Rhett, we can't…"

And that was her attempt.

_I'll think about that tomorrow._

Before that wild, final thrill shot up her spine - and she felt the all-consuming sweetness of unconditional surrender…


End file.
